


Mistaken

by EnnArr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Drama, Endgame Hermione Granger/James Potter, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger & Severus Snape as Siblings, Hermione Granger-centric, Hermione as a Shacklebolt, Hermione as a Snape, Hermione in the Marauders Era, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Other, Parallel Universe, Powerful Hermione Granger, Relationship(s), Romance, Soulmate AU, Time Travel, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnnArr/pseuds/EnnArr
Summary: It was one mistake, and now, he's on a mission to find his (true) soulmate. Truthfully, he never thought he'd love someone else, but then he found her and love found them both. But nothing is ever easy—especially when your soulmate just so happen to have knowledge of the future.
Relationships: Eileen Prince/Tobias Snape, Eileen Snape/OC, Hermione Granger/James Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy, Mary Macdonald/Peter Pettigrew, Narcissa Malfoy & Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin/Regulus Black, Severus Snape & Hermione Granger, Sirius Black & Dorcas Meadowes
Comments: 53
Kudos: 290





	1. The End

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.**

** Chapter One **

**_The End_ **

The first—and last—time James kissed Lily, he felt that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

It was an accidental kiss and it was nothing more than a mere brush of the lips. They had been arguing before it happened. One minute, Lily was screaming at him and the next, some first year bumped into him, making him trip and almost fall into Lily. His lips had brushed hers for a millisecond before it ultimately landed on her cheek when she moved her head away. He had not even regained his balance before she pushed him off her, slapped him in his face and stormed off—leaving him all alone, staring at a small spot on the stone wall as he pondered about the too brief kiss.

Sirius would argue that it was barely anything and not enough to make an impact. Remus would agree with him and Peter would snicker at his unfortunate luck. She didn't even kiss him back. Hell, she had moved her head away before it could progress any further. It was nothing compared to what other 17 years old did in an ancient castle with multiple cupboards, hidden nooks, secret passageways, and abandoned and forgotten classrooms.

Sirius would laugh himself silly if he found out that just because of one kiss—a sorry, pitiful excuse of a kiss—James was now too daze by what had occurred. He would've ribbed him about being whipped and for being starstruck because of some useless excuse of a kiss.

But James wasn't frozen because he was starstruck.

He couldn't move because of the gnawing voice in his head that told him how wrong it was to kiss Lily. The shudders he felt wasn't because of desire—but because of disgust. Kissing her—as brief as it was—felt so horrible that he might as well have kissed Filch instead. It wasn't what James had expected to feel and it had certainly caught him off guard.

There was supposed to be a paused in time, some fireworks exploding in the background, or something else that would make the act special even if it was accidental. He should've been dizzied with euphoria, his heart should've been beating fast and loud, his lips should've tingle, and he should've wanted more. However, he felt none of those things.

When his lips had brushed hers, it felt wrong—so wrong in fact that he could taste bile at the back of his throat. It was his first kiss-but-not-really-kiss and yet, James was certain that the world was about to end with how horrible he felt after.

He grabbed his stomach and gulped down the saliva gathering in his mouth. He didn't understand his reaction or what he was feeling. He didn't understand why Lily's lips tasted like werewolf slobber for him even as her breath smelled like spearmint toothpaste. He didn't understand why his heart wasn't beating fast but rather clenching painfully inside of his chest—it felt like a chore to breathe. He didn't understand why instead of love, it was disgust and disdain that was rolling under his skin.

It was unlike the stories and descriptions that Sirius used to tell him to satisfy his curiosity. James had never felt so thoroughly disgusted at himself because of that one kiss and he shuddered as he thought about doing it again, already balking at the thought of a mere innocent touch from Lily.

It was a strange feeling.

James had always thought that he loved Lily Evans. He even proclaimed to the rest of the world that he was going to marry her someday. He had done everything in his power to ensure that he was a willing wizard to date (and eventually marry) if Lily was inclined to start seeing someone. He had fantasized what it would feel like to kiss Lily's supple lips, to trail his fingers down her soft looking fair skin, and to smell her Lavender scented hair up close.

He had been so convinced that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her—nevermind that she hated his guts. Nevermind that she always screamed at him, always complained at his attention and gifts, and always called him the foulest names that even Sirius and Remus cringed at.

Now, he felt his world falling apart because of that kiss. Accident as it was, just a millisecond of lips-against-lips, it didn't stop his whole fantasy world from crumbling apart. James was still shaking from the aftereffects. He felt retched and disgusted, not at Lily, but at himself. He felt like he was bathing in slime made out of a troll's snot.

It felt awful and he knew, right then and there, that there was no way he would want to feel this kind of feeling again. And all of this was because of Lily's kiss-but-not-quite-kiss, the girl who was his present and who was supposed to be his future.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach and the urge to vomit at his throat, he knew that his future with Lily could never be.

He knew that he would never be the same again.

* * *

It was common knowledge in the Wizarding World that everyone had a soulmate—the one person who was compatible with you in each and every way possible. Because of magic, each witch and wizard had a soulmate sign that could pinpoint their soulmates for them. These signs came in different forms and different ways. The most common forms of a soulmate sign were tattoos of birthdates, name initials, symbols, or even the first and/or last words spoken to them.

Some shared the same dreams, thoughts, scars, sicknesses/injuries, or see colors once they found their soulmates. Others could exchange or correspond through words or drawings written across the skin, had clocks embedded in their bodies to determine when to meet them, could see through each other's eyes when they closed their eyes, and could even apparate to them once they were of age.

There were written accounts where soulmates met in their dreams first before meeting in real life. Many claimed they caught glimpses of their future with their soulmates. There were physical changes manifesting as well such as a brown hair streaked in gold or one of their eyes changing to the eye color of their match. There were several who could feel when their soulmate was nearby like some sort of sixth sense. There was even a select few that could pinpoint their soulmate through touch, sight, smell, hear, or taste.

Each soulmate sign was unique to the other, and most soulmates had the same sign. But there were a few who had different signs that still corresponded with their soulmates. For example: one of them could have a birthdate sign while the other could have a symbol sign—but the signs are still connected.

Although destined to be together, some soulmates weren't right for each other. Soulmates or not, it took both parties to make compromises, to trust and love each other despite all odds. Some soulmates didn't have what it took to maintain that kind of commitment. In the end, those kinds of soulmates didn't stay together.

Rejecting a soulmate was completely unheard of, but one that still happened from time to time. Some matches were meant to be; others were made in heaven; but there are instances when a match deserved the fiery pits of hell. (Case in point: Orion and Walburga Black). There were multiple accounts that stated that couples who weren't soulmates usually noted that they felt something was missing in their lives despite insisting that they were happy with their partners.

It was rare for a wizard, especially a Pureblood one, to not have a soulmate. Everyone had a match and wizards and witches trusted soulmate magic, one of the most ancient and powerful magic there was in the Wizarding World.

James Charlus Potter hadn't been born with a mark on his skin and no matter how many times he wrote words on every single part of his body, no words from his soulmate would appear. He didn't get sick often—especially with an overprotective mother watching over him—and he never heard a voice in his head that wasn't his own. He also didn't have prophetic dreams where he met his soulmate or saw their future together. He knew that he had a soulmate somewhere out there so the only problem he had was to find her—or him.

James' parents, Charlus and Dorea Potter, had known that they were soulmates from the moment their eyes met. "Love at first sight," would be the apt term for it. James knew that he would get one of the five human senses somehow because of his parents. So, when he saw Lily Evans in the tender age of eleven and had been struck by the sight of her emerald green eyes and gleaming red hair, he thought he'd found his soulmate.

She was beautiful back then—and until now, of course—and he was so entranced by her beauty that the first time he approached her, he immediately proposed to her. Even when she screamed, insulted, and hexed him, he'd been so certain that she was the one for him.

That was until the night of the accidental kiss-but-not-really-a-kiss.

In all of his life, he had never kissed anyone, not even once and not even at Sirius' and Remus' insistence. Both of his friends had been worried about his obsession with the beautiful redhead, so they tried to divert his attention to other people. They suggested many girls and a couple of guys (in case he swung that way which was appreciated but wasn't necessary) but when he told him that Lily was his soulmate—or at least he thought at that time that she was—they backed off.

That didn't stop Sirius though who occasionally tried to set him up with a couple of witches throughout the years. But James never took his offers, vowing to save himself for Lily and only Lily—because that was how devoted he was to her, to his freaking soulmate.

If he only knew that kissing her would taste as rotten as drinking Polyjuice Potion, he would've reconsidered that decision.

James was unable to look at Lily the same way since their accidental kiss-but-a-pathetic-excuse-of-a-kiss. He was quite relieved that Lily also seemed as though she was avoiding him, which made things easier for him. His friends were all curious why he stopped pursuing the ever-beautiful Lily and although he made excuses, he knew that he failed at convincing them.

Everyone knew that he had been in love with Lily since the first time he saw her, so his behavior was utterly confusing them. Even Sirius—who normally wasn't Lily's biggest fan after her numerous rejections of James—had asked him about his change of heart.

But James still couldn't tell them the truth.

The truth that one mere kiss deemed that Lily wasn't worthy of him and that magic itself told him that he and Lily didn't deserve each other.

No, he couldn't admit that to his friends or to anyone else. It felt like a betrayal. He had invested so much time in courting her, so convinced that magic had chosen her for him and only him. He'd told everyone he knew that he loved her, that he wanted to marry her, that she would be the next Mrs. Potter, that she was going to be the mother of his children, and all of those fantasies and dreams had been for naught.

James felt as though he'd been cheated because if this beautiful, intelligent, vivacious, and perfect witch wasn't meant for him, then who was?

He couldn't handle knowing that she wasn't his soulmate, and after many years of being certain that she was, he was now fearing the uncertainty. He was terrified of facing the fact that someone out there—someone who wasn't Lily—was his soulmate, waiting for him to find her.

He knew that he could still find his soulmate, that he had the tools to do it, but the idea of kissing someone else and feeling the same disgust that crawled under his skin again wasn't appealing to him. So, there was absolutely no way of knowing who unless he willingly kissed someone again—and that was something he would never do after what he felt the first time.

This fact—coupled with the uncertainty and fear—had made him act irate, broody, and callous to everyone around him. Sirius had already walked out of him twice after he told him a particular nasty comment or two. He also made Peter cower and cry in multiple occasions, and even Remus had nearly maimed him with his werewolf strength.

James couldn't help it. Despite the guilt coursing through him for acting like a prat to his best friends, he still couldn't stop taking his frustration out on them.

It just felt so unfair. Sirius and Remus had already found their own soulmates. Sirius had found his soulmate, the spunky and energetic Dorcas Meadowes, back when they were in their fourth year. Meanwhile Remus had found his soulmate, Sirius' younger brother, the sarcastic and studious Regulus Black, back when they were in third year. Even Peter found his soulmate in sweet and pretty Mary MacDonald just a couple of months ago.

He was the only one who hadn't found his. He had a vision! He had a dream! He had Lily! And magic had betrayed all those three. He loved Lily—still did—and he couldn't accept the fact that she wasn't his soulmate. James was sulking because of that. In result, he took all of his angst and anger at everyone around him because it was easier that way than giving in to the awful reality of never having Lily.

Of course, that was until Sirius called him a git and then proceeded to punch him. Not one to be overdone, James retaliated—which turned into a full-blown fight in the Gryffindor common room where Lily herself put a stop to it and made them go to the Hospital Wing after deducting twenty points each.

Currently, he and Sirius were getting treatment from Madam Pomfrey, the new Mediwitch of the school, and they weren't speaking to each other. James knew that it was all his fault, but he was also prideful enough not to admit it.

James pouted as the Mediwitch treated his bruise while also clucking her tongue in disapproval. Remus was across him and James could practically feel his disapproval vibrating off of him. Peter was eyeing all of them but darted his eyes quickly, his body trembling slightly. In all five years of their friendship, James and Sirius were thick as thieves and brothers in arms. They never fought so them trying to beat the shit out of the other was strange for all of them.

"What happened to the both of you?" Remus asked as soon as the Mediwitch was out of earshot.

"What happened to us?" Sirius spat then shot a glare at James which he returned easily. "Why don't you ask him? He's been in a shitty mood for several weeks now!"

"We already talked about that, Pads," Remus murmured to the Black heir, sighing under his breath.

James frowned. They were talking about him when he wasn't around?

"That doesn't excuse what he said," Sirius grumbled. "I can handle any shit thrown at me as long as it isn't about my family or about Dorcas. But the asshole over there just had to mention them both at the same time." Sirius looked at him. "What the hell is the matter with you, Prongs? You've been acting strange and being a prat. Did Lily reject you again? If she did, don't take it out on us because we don't deserve this."

Neither Remus nor Peter spoke a word to contradict Sirius. It was probably because what he said was the truth. James knew it was bad when people started agreeing with Sirius since people tended to disagree with him on a daily basis.

James sighed and ruffled his hair, guilt churning inside him. "You're right," he said to them, looking down at his lap. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"It definitely should not," Remus stated firmly. "But why are you in such an awful mood for weeks? What happened, James?"

James frowned. "Can we not talk about this? I said I wasn't going to do it again."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Do you think that with the shitty weeks you dragged us into, we'd let this go? Come on, mate. You got to do better than that."

James scowled at Sirius but dropped his gaze when he met Remus's knowing stare. Damn it. He shut his eyes close, feeling a pressure in his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe. He didn't want to admit it aloud; he didn't want to say it, ever. But what was he going to do? His friends were demanding for the hard and painful truth.

Everyone thought that Lily was his soulmate and were all waiting for him and Lily to get together—even if Sirius continuously convinced him to turn his attention to another witch the more Lily rebuffed him.

Now everything was all pointless.

"Can't we just move on from all of this?" James said almost pleadingly. "It's done and I'm going to be back to normal."

Remus gave him a pointed look. "Don't think for a second that you can get away with this, James."

The Potter heir sighed heavily and dropped his head. "I..." The words lodged in his throat and he all but physically dragged the words out of his mouth. "I found out that Lily... Lily isn't my soulmate after all."

Silence. Then—

"WHAT?" They all shouted in shock.

James shut his eyes close.

"But... you've been so sure, Prongs..." Peter said gingerly, exchanging uncertain looks with Remus and Sirius. "You told us that she was your soulmate back in our second year. What happened? What changed?"

James threw his head back and stared at the cracks on the ceiling. "Well, it turns out that she— she isn't my soulmate after all. I found out when I sort of... kind of... kissed her... and it was awful." He shuddered just thinking about those awful emotions evoked by a simple kiss.

"Oh, so that's why Lily's been avoiding you," Peter remarked.

"Wait, how do you sort of, kind of, kiss someone?" Sirius asked aloud, puzzled.

Remus waved his question away. "That isn't the point," he said impatiently before turning his solemn eyes at James. "So, that's why you're in such a mood all those weeks?"

"Well, how would you feel if you were in my case?" James asked defensively. "How was I supposed to know that she wasn't my soulmate? When I saw her, I thought that she was, and I was so sure but then... we kissed and then..." He sighed as he remembered the kiss. "It was... it was really awful..."

"And that's how you found out that she wasn't your soulmate?" Peter asked and James nodded. "How do you know so easily?"

James smiled wearily. "The same way you all knew who your soulmates were."

His three friends exchanged looks again.

"Maybe it was just a fluke of sorts?" Sirius suggested, shrugging his shoulders, his concern evident in his eyes.

James closed his eyes again. "It wasn't..." he sighed. "It wasn't even about Lily; it was about me. I felt it. I felt like I did something wrong, you know. Like I wronged someone else. I was revolted by my own actions. Everything in me was urging me to stay away and to never do that again. It was like my body was sending warning sparks at me and alarms were going off when I kissed her. It was soulmate magic; I knew it was."

"Yikes." Peter winced.

Sirius looked at James with horror. "Does that mean that you can never kiss other girls again?"

He shuddered just thinking about kissing other girls again. The revulsion rolled over his stomach and chilled his spine. The phantom feel of the bile in the back of his throat made him bite his tongue. He would not be kissing other girls if he could avoid these feelings again.

"Oh man, that sucks," Sirius remarked with something akin to pity when he saw James cringing.

Of course, he would be pitied by Sirius. At least Sirius and the others had indulged in a dalliance or two (or multiple ones in Sirius' case) before meeting their soulmates. Well, except for Remus since he had met Regulus in such a young age compared to everyone else. It wasn't exactly a taboo to date other people who weren't your soulmates as long as it wasn't anything remotely close to serious.

But James had never done that, dedicating himself to one witch and one witch only. Now they just found out that he could never exchange casual and harmless fun with other witches because the soulmate magic prohibited him from doing so.

Not that James wanted to. After kissing Lily and finding out that she wasn't his soulmate, he might as well be swearing off witches from here on out.

Merlin, out of all soulmate signs, why did he have the most complicated one? He'd rather have sight, scent, hear, or touch; but no, he had taste of all things.

"Merlin, you're so fucked," Sirius commented as he leaned back in the cot, his hands planted behind him to support his weight.

"Why?" James asked quizzically.

Sirius had a shit-eating grin on his face. "You do realize that you spent so many years chasing after Lily, right? And you were never quiet or shy about it, Prongs. So, there's a huge possibility that your soulmate—the true one—saw all of those years when you proclaimed your love to another person and insisted that that person was your soulmate. Can you imagine what your true soulmate must've felt those times?" He snickered when James blanched. "Yeah, you are so fucked."

Groaning, James fell down the bed on his back as the heels of his palms rubbed his eyes. "Merlin, I suck."

* * *

Knowing his soulmate sign didn't make it easier for him. Now that James had confessed the truth to his best friends, he now had to worry about finding his soulmate again, trying to convince her that he was her soulmate, and that Lily had been an honest to Merlin mistake. It was difficult since everyone in Hogwarts thought that Lily was his soulmate based by his very own claims.

What confused James the most was that if Lily wasn't his soulmate, why didn't she say so? For all of her rejections, she never once refuted his claims that she was his soulmate. She had let the rumors be and had let him feed those rumors. It was all very strange to think about that James quickly dismissed it the moment it entered his mind.

Sirius tried to convince him to forget about Lily and move on, but it was hard. James had been in love with her for five years and even though she wasn't his soulmate in the end, he still loved her; he gave his all for her and had lost himself in her. He loved watching her eyes spark with anger, knowing that he had affected her some way or another, and especially loved the way her silky hair flared brightly in the light.

It was hard because he fell in love with someone who wasn't his soulmate and that meant that he could never have Lily Evans ever again (not that he had her to begin with). Even though he felt revulsion crawling under his skin when he (accidentally) kissed her, it didn't change the fact that he had fallen in love with her.

It was quite a predicament to be in, but it wasn't until Remus spoke to him that James realize how unfair it would be for his soulmate to have him pining after someone else. Remus told James what an utter prat he was for mistakenly assuming another girl as his soulmate and made it his entire mission to woo her and get together with her when she wasn't even his soulmate to begin with.

His soulmate might not be Lily, Remus had said, but James owed his to give themselves a chance. Chastised and guilty, James promised to let go of Lily and try to find his soulmate because in the end, Remus was right. Even if he had fallen in love with Lily, he had to give him and his soulmate a chance to be together.

So, for the first time in his life, James was now looking at girls that weren't Lily and he was a bit shocked to learn that some of the girls had gotten prettier and more beautiful the older they got.

There had been Narcissa Black (now Malfoy), who was a Slytherin a couple of years older, with her ice blue eyes that were mesmerizing in the light. Then there was Alice Greengrass, a Ravenclaw in their year, that had a cute dimple in her left cheek when she smiled. Then there was Marlene McKinnon, a Gryffindor in their year also, whose dark bedroom eyes could incite fantasies beyond his wildest dreams.

He had been so fixated on Lily that he had never noticed the other girls' blossoming beauty.

But some part of him, the one that had fallen in love at first sight with Lily, rebelled. He felt guilty for looking at other girls. Because of that, he ended up comparing Lily to all of them and noted that Lily seemed far and above the girls in Hogwarts. Narcissa was too snobbish (plus married), Alice was too boyish (and also quite taken), and Marlene was too promiscuous.

If Remus heard James' thoughts, he would've scolded him, but James couldn't help it! Every girl was either too much or too little while Lily remained the 'just right' category. It was very hard to think about Lily as less than this and less than that; it felt like his brain had been ingrained to put Lily in a pedestal—holding her high in the air for everyone to see the perfection that was Lily Evans.

Okay, so maybe he was biased. Maybe he shouldn't hold her in the pedestal when her soulmate could be anywhere, thinking that he was such an asshole for pining after someone else that he wasn't destined to be with.

He liked to think that he was brave enough to continue pursuing Lily and then marrying her despite of this revelation but if there was one thing that his parents had taught him, it was trusting in magic and all it entailed. However, matters of the heart was a different thing entirely. Saying something wasn't the same as doing them. It was easy to convince the others that he was moving on from Lily when in reality, he still struggled to let her go.

And maybe that was why he had never noticed her before.

He had first seen her leaving the library, carrying a thick tome close to her chest as she chatted with Sirius' younger brother and Remus' soulmate about a homework in Ancient Runes.

He'd noticed her because she was talking to Regulus and he knew enough about Remus' soulmate to know that he wasn't the friendly sort. Regulus was a pretentious snob and James was surprised to see him hanging out with a girl with crazy hair in desperate need of a brush. But it was that same hair that truly captured his attention and what he had fixated on for many months to come.

Her back was turned to him so he could only spot the back of her head and her rich voluminous chocolate brown curls spiraling down her back. His eyes were stuck on it as it bounced, coiled tighter, and went loose whenever she moved her head. He didn't why; it was just something that fascinated him.

It was different from Lily's. Hers was straight and silky and never out of place while the witch that Regulus was talking to have her hair exploding in every direction possible. Lily had a bright ruby red hair while hers was a dark chocolate brown. He hadn't seen her face because Sirius had called him to ask suggestions about an anniversary present for Dorcas. By the time they were done talking, she had already left.

And as creepy as it sounded, he had never forgotten the sight of her hair after that.

The second time was in a Double Potions class with Slughorn. He had been late and had been forced to sit at the back with some Ravenclaw prat that ignored him. When he looked ahead to Professor Slughorn, his eyes landed on the large curls again, located at the very front of the room. It was too distinctive not to forget. James found it funny that he never noticed her or her hair before and now, he was seeing it in his classes. All throughout Slughorn's lesson, his eyes kept wandering to her hair and he was so distracted by the sight of it that it resulted in one giant explosion in the Potions classroom and a week's worth of detention.

Now he couldn't stop thinking about her hair and who she was and why hadn't he noticed her before?

He also couldn't help but wonder if her hair was as soft as it looked.

The third time he'd seen her, he finally got a good look of her face. He was in the library that time (shocking, right?), accompanying Remus while Sirius and Peter snuck out to get them snacks from the Kitchens. He was playing with the snitch he stole back in his second year while Remus wrote a ten inches long essay about the effects of Impedimenta on blood for DADA. He was just minding his own business when someone suddenly came up to their table.

And it was her.

And she was pretty.

She was pretty—or at least, she would be pretty if someone looked closely enough. One might dismiss her as plain at first glance but the longer that James stared at her, the more it affirmed his thoughts that she was indeed pretty. There was no hint of makeup or glamor on her face aside from the glossy sheen of her plump pink lips. She was a tiny thing standing at five feet and three inches, minus if you didn't include her hair. Her hair was even bigger up close, wilder, and somehow more enticing; James had to stuff his hands inside the pocket of his robes just to stop himself from reaching out and test his theory if it was soft.

He noticed her uniform and had been surprised to note that she was in Gryffindor. James was stunned. It was strange that he had never seen her in the common room before. What nearly stopped his heart was her doe-like honey brown eyes that was almost as light as Remus' amber ones; but James preferred hers over Remus.

"Hello, there," she said.

Her voice wasn't soft or rough but rather clear, slightly low, but very feminine. She sounded embarrassed and looked sheepish as she attempted to smile at them. James was disheartened to see that she was looking at Remus rather than at him.

"Yes?" Remus asked, smiling kindly. "Hermione, right?"

Hermione? Her name was Hermione? It was so different and so uncommon with a face as natural as hers. James shot a look at Remus. And he knew her? What? He frowned. Why didn't he say anything?

"I'm sorry to interrupt but I've noticed you have the book I need for Charms." She pointed at one of the many books that Remus had scattered around the table. Whenever Remus studied, he had the tendency to borrow every book in every subject available, which some Ravenclaws found annoying. "I really need it for my homework and I'm wondering if I can borrow it. I'll give it back once I'm done. It's just really important."

James watched with avid attention when she sucked her lower lip and bit it down using two large front teeth. He was very certain that his mind had gone blank for a moment there.

"Oh, here." Remus handed her the book, smiling sheepishly. "I don't really need it anymore."

"Oh, thank you!"

She smiled and fuck it if James didn't want her to smile at him too. He watched as she left—without looking at him, at all—and paid extra attention to her bouncy curls. Once he'd given them the attention they deserve, he turned back to Remus, slightly dazed.

"Who was that?"

There must be something in James' voice that Remus found alarming or worth paying attention to because the werewolf instantaneously snapped his wide eyes to him.

"Who was who?" Remus asked, confused.

"That girl who borrowed the book," he elaborated. "You know, the cute girl with crazy hair."

Remus blinked in shock. "James, you don't know her?"

James shook his head slowly. "No, I don't. But apparently, you do."

Remus snorted. "James," he said, voice suddenly serious, "of course I know her." He frowned. "She's Severus Snape's younger sister."

And just like that, everything came crushing down and anything that could've began had ultimately ended.


	2. The Life and Lies of Hermione Snape – Part I

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.**

** Chapter Two **

**_The Life and Lies of Hermione Snape – Part I_ **

As soon as Hermione regained consciousness, she knew something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

She struggled to open her eyes at first, but as soon as she did, her vision came out blurry. She couldn’t make out the moving shadowy shapes in front of her. It was like all colors melded together to create a massive blur of a picture, like she’d been staring at the pages of a book so long the words no longer registered to her. But there was light at least—just not easily distinguishable. She wondered why.

She tried to move, but she realized in a panic that her body was wrapped in a bind—in what she could tell was a thick cloth—unable to move her limbs or even flex her fingers and toes. Meanwhile, her body felt so strange and alien to her somehow. It felt similarly like the time when Lavender forced her to wear one of her girly outfits that didn’t suit her or complimented her complexion. It was foreign and awkward, and not something she’d want to experience again.

She was laying on something soft and warm, and that was the only comfort she needed not to burst into a full-blown panic attack. Because if she was lying in a comfortable place, surely that meant that she was somewhere safe, right? But what was going on? Why couldn’t she move? And where was everyone? What about Harry, or Ron?

She struggled against the binds that held her and opened her mouth to scream but, to her intense mortification, she could only produce a distressed whimper and a wail. She immediately clamped her mouth shut, flabbergasted, and embarrassed at the noise she made. Alarm immediately seized her captive as her mind raced with possibilities, tracing back the events that could’ve brought her where she was now.

The last thing she remembered was the final battle at Hogwarts. She remembered flashing lights of curses. She remembered dodging and aiming spells of her own, and the never-ending bloodshed between the light and the dark side. She remembered being fueled by rage (at thinking that Harry was dead, at the lives they had lost, at the thought that she had _failed_ everyone because she was too late to solve Dumbledore’s stupid riddles) and being consumed by grief (for Remus and Tonks, for Lavender, for Colin, for Dobby, for Fred _,_ for _Harry)_.

She remembered her trepidation, her anger, her sorrow, her heart beating so hard and fast against her chest almost as though it was threatening to burst out of her body. Most of all, she remembered fighting against Bellatrix Lestrange with Ginny and Luna. Even with three witches as her opponent, Bellatrix seemed unstoppable. During their duel, the dark witch had been laughing maniacally while also evading the curses with ease and agility that they sent her way.

Then Molly Weasley appeared.

 _“Not my daughter, you bitch!”_ The redhead matriarch of the Weasley family had screamed at the dark-haired beauty.

But Bellatrix only smiled and cocked her head to the side, and Hermione remembered those silver eyes darting to her direction, something sinister lurking in her gaze. _“So be it,”_ she had said to Molly before blasting a curse—towards Hermione.

Hermione gasped, her eyes misting, tremors shooting down her spine as she remembered the agony of Bellatrix’s curse. It felt as though her body was being torn apart, like her flesh was being carved open before she was bathed in salt water, like her bones were being snapped, and her very soul was being shred to pieces. It was so much more than an hour long of Crucio.

She remembered collapsing to the floor, hearing Bellatrix’s mad laughter alongside Ginny and Luna’s screams and cries before she had blacked out because of the pain. She knew that those sounds would continue to haunt her in her sleep. After that… _what happened after that?_

Suddenly, the shadows moved before her eyes, and Hermione watched with a wide-eyed gaze, wondering what it would do to her. A whimper escaped her lips, and she felt the hot tears sliding down from her eyes to the side of her head. Was it going to harm her? She soon found her answer when she felt a strange sensation of a warm palm caressing her head. Hermione tensed at first, but she eventually relaxed under the soothing touch.

“Shh, it’s alright, love,” someone cooed just as the shadows danced in front of her. Based by the sound of its voice, Hermione assumed it was female. There was warmth and affection there that awfully reminded Hermione of her mum.

 _My mum whom I had obliviated and who would never know that she had a daughter,_ she thought with a heavy heart.

“Shh, it’s okay, Hermione. Everything is okay. Go to sleep, my love. Shh.” The caress continued. The palm was calloused, but the voice and touch itself was loving and soothing.

Against her better judgement, Hermione found herself trusting the voice even if she couldn’t make out her face. She didn’t even question how the motherly voice knew her name. It had been _so long_ since she felt this safe. She had nearly forgotten what it felt like. Being on a run, constantly looking over their shoulder because of the target on their backs— _being tortured and having her arm carved like a fucking animal_ —had taken a toll on her psyche.

For once, she wanted to bask in this rare moment of safety. She knew it was foolish to let her guard down now, especially when she had no idea what had happened after she had collapsed from Bellatrix’s magical onslaught, but was it wrong to just give in to this kind of warmth after being deprived of it for so long?

She spent a year on the run, constantly looking over her shoulder, hiding from people who wanted her _dead_ , feeling terribly alone and _useless_. For once, she wanted a moment—even just a tiny one—where she could finally _breathe_ without fearing that the air itself would choke her.

Even though she knew that something happened—something _bad_ and _terrible_ —she pushed aside her worry about where she was, who she was with, and why she was there, and allowed herself to succumb to the feeling of content—just this once.

* * *

Hermione woke up abruptly, startled by the loud racket that seeped through from the other side of the walls. Someone was fighting on the other side of the room, their voices muffled and indistinguishable. It admittedly made her nervous, especially hearing the crashes and thumps that slipped in between the screaming match. Before she could dwell further though, her curiosity over the noises disappeared when she noticed that her vision had improved; now she was able to stare at the cracks and holes of a yellow ceiling.

She lifted her head—the only part of her body that she could move since it wasn’t restricted—and darted her gaze around the room she was in. It was small and quite clattered with a peeling yellow paint, dirty clothes scattered around and dirt tracks on the floor, an old but sturdy bed pushed up against the wall (the mattress bare of any sheets although it did have two unwashed pillows), and a worn dresser near a brown door. It was a room that she didn’t recognize and she wondered how she got there.

She cocked her head to the side. Also, was she going crazy or something? For some odd reason, she couldn’t help but note that everything seemed… _bigger_ somehow. Keeping a trained ear on the loud noises outside, she tried to move, but found herself unable to do so because of the thick cloth that was restricting her movements. A noise of frustration escaped her lips and she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth—only to realize that she couldn’t feel her teeth.

Her eyes widened as she flicked her tongue over where her teeth should be, only to feel gums in the end. Disbelief and confusion battled its way as her prominent emotion. The content she felt the last time she opened her eyes had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a mess of emotions that threatened to swept her away. She couldn’t stop the panic from spreading this time as she struggled against the cloth that bound her, a cry of aggravation forcing its way out of her throat.

“Shh!” A little boy suddenly appeared before her, startling her so hard that she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she unabashedly gaped at the boy whose almond-shaped onyx eyes darted nervously towards the door while also holding his hands up to her like he was about to reach her but had stopped himself for whatever reason. Her heart pounded hard against her chest as she silently scrutinized him. He was a boy who looked like a boy, but why did he look so large and strange to her?

He looked nothing more than a two-years-old boy with black stringy hair and a rather noticeable hook-like nose on his face. He was too thin for his own good (she could already hear Molly Weasley admonishing him to eat more— _and God,_ thinking about her pseudo-mother _hurt_ ). He was wearing a worn shirt that reached his knees but his face was pasty white, making him look a bit like a ghost. There was dirt on his face and hands which meant that he probably hadn’t bathed yet.

For some odd reason, she couldn’t help but feel that he was familiar to her somehow, although for the life of her, she didn’t understand why since she was certain that she hadn’t seen him until now.

“Shh!” He shushed her again.

If she could, Hermione would’ve recoiled back when she saw him reaching a hand out towards her. It wasn’t because she was disgusted or anything like that, but rather she was being cautious. She knew this was a harmless child but, from her perspective, he appeared as though he was bigger than her.

She noted that his hand was larger than her head which alarmed her. She could feel his fingers brushing the tips of her ears and how easily he could cup the back of her head with one palm. She stifled the urge to hyperventilate as she started piecing these strange evidences together, nearly eliminating most of her suspicions and assumptions.

“No _noi_ —noise,” he whispered to her and Hermione paused, seeing the fear in his eyes when the shouting grew louder. He covered his fear with a brave smile. “ _Qui_ —quiet. Okay, Herminny?”

 _Who are you?_ Hermione wanted to ask. _Do I know you? Why do you look so familiar to me? Who are those people fighting on the other side of the room?_ To her exasperation, all she could manage was whimpers. Throughout her entire life, she had never felt so useless until that moment. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t speak; she didn’t even have _teeth_! Again, for the nth time, what was going on?

“It’s okay.” His small and childish voice adopted a softer tone as he continued rubbing her head. Comforting but not exactly helpful. “I’m here. Don’t be sca _—sca—scwared_. I’m gonna _pro_ — _pwotect_ you.”

Her heart melted at the boy’s heartfelt and genuine declaration as she stared at the stubborn set of his jaw and the determined glint in his eyes, making her believe that he would move mountains for her if she asked for it. She wanted to tell him that she could protect herself, that she ought to be the one protecting him instead, but before she could say anything, the door suddenly barged open, ruining the peace and quiet that they both shared.

A large man came into the room with thundering footsteps and a hateful look in his eyes that terrified Hermione (it reminded her too much of Malfoy’s eyes before he called her a mudblood, of Bellatrix’s when she saw the sword stored in her beaded bag). Except for the hair, he physically looked like an older version of the sweet boy that Hermione was with. However, the man might look like him but he didn’t _feel_ like him—the man was so steeped in darkness that it corrupted him entirely.

She also couldn’t help but think that she had seen him before, although she couldn’t remember where.

The boy whimpered at seeing the large man but that didn’t stop him from angling his trembling body to hide Hermione behind him. She shot the boy a sideways glance before turning her attention to the man. The man stood barefoot, wearing loose fitting, homespun clothes with patches stitched all over the front and sleeves. He sneered at the boy before taking a swig of whiskey, straight from the bottle, liquid dripping down his chin as he dropped the empty bottle to the floor. Hermione and the little boy flinched at the sound of glass shattering.

“Protectin’ the little bastard now, eh?” He asked in a crude accent, scoffing under his breath, keeping his eyes on the boy. There was so much coldness and hate in his eyes that it made Hermione shudder. “No loyalty even from my own brood?”

“Tobias, please stop.” A woman suddenly appeared behind the man; her thin figure made obvious by the loose dress she wore.

Hermione blinked her eyes. She sounded… she sounded exactly like the woman who had rubbed her head the night before, calling her love, telling her to go to sleep and that everything was okay. She looked so different from what she imagined. The woman was wringing her wrists and nervously fidgeting on her feet, dark and large bags circling underneath her eyes. Her stringy black hair was the same as the little boy’s, as well as her pasty complexion. Her slumped shoulders made her appear as though she was carrying every burden the world had to offer.

The woman reminded Hermione of Dobby. She fidgeted and flinched in the same way as Dobby whenever they were in the presence of someone who was powerful than them and who had the power to hurt them. When the man—Tobias—swung his gaze to her, the woman froze, eyes wide but there was fear in those dark brown eyes of hers.

“Look at this,” Tobias said, sneering as he swiped a hand towards Hermione and the boy. “Look at that piece of shit. Do you think that it’s funny, Eileen? _Huh?_ My own son is protecting that bastard daughter of yours.”

The woman—Eileen—flinched as Hermione’s eyes widened, her heart pounding erratically in her chest as Tobias’ words registered in her mind. _Tobias? Eileen? Why, oh why, do those names sound so painfully familiar to her?_ Her eyes widened. _And who… who were they calling ‘bastard daughter’?_

“Tobias, please,” Eileen said through shuddered gasps. “Leave the child alone. She—It’s not her fault. You’re mad at me—”

“Damn right I am!” Tobias screamed.

All three of them winced with Hermione letting out an involuntary cry. The boy snapped his gaze to her in alarm before darting a frightened glance towards Tobias. He only relaxed when Tobias’ attention remained solely on Eileen.

Hermione’s heart ached painfully. No child should ever look at their father with fear. She didn’t want to assume or anything, but the damning evidence was right in front of her. They were obviously being abused and mistreated, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to take them both away from this place. They deserved better than a home like this.

She struggled against her binds until she finally wiggled her hands free but she froze upon seeing her hands. They shook as she held them up to her face. What had Bellatrix Lestrange done to her? What had she done? Her hands were suddenly short, her arms chubby, but her fingers and nails were small. Her mind flashed as she tried to find an explanation why, and then all the images stopped in her head as she remembered a picture that her mother showed to her years before.

 _A picture of her as a baby not more than three months old at most._ Her heart thundered as she came into a conclusion. Her entire world shook and her blood drained from her face.

_Oh, Merlin… Oh, no._

If she was right—and she was rarely wrong—then there was no doubt in her mind that somehow, beyond comprehension, after some twisted sort of event, Bellatrix’s curse had reduced her age and made her a… a _baby_!

She stamped down the hysteria threatening to bubble out from her and forced herself to think rationally. If she was a baby, then where was Harry? Ron? Everyone? Why was she in the care of a drunk abuser, a battered housewife, and an abused child? As far as she knew, she was the only one who had been subjected to Bellatrix’s curse, and she knew that if they had lost, she would probably be dead.

“Tobias, please keep your voice down.” She heard Eileen imploring the man. But her voice meek and without strength or force in it. “You’re scaring the children.”

“Good!” Tobias snarled vehemently. “They fucking be!”

She flinched at his loud voice and nearly jumped out of her skin when the boy suddenly grabbed her hand in a firm but gentle grip. She unwittingly met his gaze and was paralyzed by how _familiar_ those onyx eyes are. She was now positive that she’d seen them before. Just… she didn’t know—

 _A pair of impossibly cold eyes met hers, and there was a ghost of a sneer across his thin lips._ “ _I see no difference.” Those onyx eyes burned with hate that it could’ve set her aflame._

That one single flashback made her recoil back and she shook her head in disbelief, in denial, as it finally dawned on her who these people were.

_Tobias and Eileen Snape._

Which meant that the boy holding her hand was none other than Severus Snape, the most notoriously hated Potions professor at Hogwarts Academy. Her old professor who had _died_. Or was supposed to be dead. She had seen him die and heard him take his last breath.

And now he was nothing more than a two-years-old boy who looked at her like he would do anything to keep her safe. It was such a big contrast to the professor that had taught her for six years, who always barked and berated her just because she was an ‘insufferable know-it-all’ and was best friends with Harry Potter. The very same professor she had set on fire back when she was in first year, who she had stolen from back when she was in second year, and who she had fought against in third year.

There could only be one explanation for this: _time travel._

_And terrible things happened to those who meddled with time._

Oh, Merlin… What had Bellatrix Lestrange done to her?

* * *

Hermione Eileen Snape was born prematurely on September 19, 1961. She did not cry nor made a sound when she was born; she was barely breathing, and most alarmingly, her skin had a blue tinge to it. That was when the doctors discovered the hole in her heart. Eileen Snape had cried as she held her tiny and ailing daughter for the first time, refusing to believe that there was a possibility that her baby wouldn’t make it alive. The hospital had no resources to close the hole in her heart, the doctor had told her, and she had no money to get the resources needed for her daughter.

So, Eileen cried and mourned her daughter who took her breaths in labored measure. But then a miracle happened. A couple of days after the discovery, the hole in baby Hermione’s heart grew smaller and smaller until it was there no longer. It was _almost_ like magic. The doctors thought that the hole healed on its own but Eileen knew the truth.

Eileen took her baby home to her other child and husband, and it took Tobias one look at the baby for him to determine that she wasn’t his.

Eileen had nearly been beaten to death that night.

However, while Tobias took one look to know that Hermione wasn’t his daughter, it took one glimpse for Severus to know that he would do anything for her. The boy, a few months shy of two, had taken one glimpse of his sister’s face and knew that he would stop at nothing to protect her. The little boy thought that the world didn’t seem so bleak when his tiny baby sister stretched out an arm and wrapped her tiny fingers around his hand. For both Severus and Eileen Snape had found a new purpose in life: protect Hermione at all cost.

But while Eileen and Severus loved her, the same could not be said to Tobias. Tobias _hated_ Hermione. She was the proof and product of Eileen’s infidelity, and what’s worse was the fact that the bastard child carried _his_ name. His fucking unfaithful wife had given her bastard daughter his name. He never made it a secret how much he loathed her presence in his house. Even his own fucking son seemed to think that she was his sister when they weren’t even sharing the same blood.

“I’d be damned if I let myself raise another man’s child!” He screamed at Eileen one afternoon.

“Tobias, please, calm down—”

“I ain’t her father! Call your fucking lover and take her away! Or, I swear to God, I’m gonna fucking kill that child!”

“Tobias, she’s just a baby!” Eileen pleaded, silently crying. Her tears were making her look twice as ugly in Tobias’ eyes. “It’s not her fault. She doesn’t know anything! She’s innocent and—and a baby, Tobias! She’s only a baby!”

Tobias didn’t care. “You either take her away, or you’re burying her six feet under.”

He turned his back to her and stalked out of his house, cursing under his breath as he made his way to the nearby pub. Eileen collapsed to the floor, sobbing her heart out. She felt as though her soul was being torn apart as she thought of parting with Hermione, her beautiful baby girl. But she was terrified for her as well. She knew that Tobias would make true of his word, although it would mean that he would murder a little innocent baby in cold blood.

Which way to go? _Which way to go?!_ Eileen rocked her body back and forth, trying to make sense of her thoughts as she cried helpless tears. Tobias was slowly killing himself and it seemed as though he was determined to bring them down with him.

She looked at the name starkly written across the white expanse of her wrist. _Tobias Snape._ She sobbed, wishing with all of her heart that the blasted name wasn’t written on her skin. The soulmate magic had given her a muggle as a soulmate. Her family knew it the moment she was born and she knew it the moment she could read. As a pureblood born in a blood purist family, having a muggle as a soulmate made her life a living hell.

Once she met Tobias, she had clung on to the idea that this was the person meant to protect and love her. But the exact opposite happened once he found out that she could do magic.

Her soulmate became the very person that she needed protecting from.

She didn’t know what to do, but she knew that she had to think of a way to keep her children safe. Keeping them safe would mean leaving Tobias, but she honestly didn’t know which way to go after that. She had no one and no money. She couldn’t run back to her pureblood family, with two half-blood children in tow. They would spurn her and would undoubtedly laugh at her predicament. They would also probably curse her children and no—she could no longer go back.

She thought of Severus, his sweet baby boy, her first child, who Tobias had slapped the day before because he was looking after his sister. It was his first and he hadn’t even shed a tear—no, her son had no reaction whatsoever, merely accepting it for what it was, and Eileen felt as though a part of her had died the moment she saw the bruise on his cheek and the emotionless mask that had fallen over his eyes.

Could she stay and wait for the same thing to happen to Hermione? Could she stay and let Tobias continue slapping their child—eventually beat him as much as he did to her?

No. No, she couldn’t. Her children were her life. She would not allow Tobias to taint them with his darkness and filth.

So, with renewed determination and a purpose in mind, she wiped her tears and rose to her feet, ignoring the way her body trembled with unsuppressed pain and fear. She went to her children who were sleeping in a small room upstairs, opening the door slowly to avoid disturbing them.

Her heart went out to Severus when she saw him sleeping on the floor beside Hermione’s makeshift crib (which was nothing more than a small box she filled with unused clothes to keep her warm). He was holding her hand tightly in his and Eileen knew that if Hermione made a noise, Severus would wake up to attend to her needs. Hermione, on the other hand, was awake, watching her silently as soon as she came into the room.

She smiled at her baby girl, reaching a shaky hand out to tug a curl on her head. Hermione looked so much like her father, a Squib that she had met on another town while she was earning money for her family. He was the kind of man that Eileen had assumed Tobias was, but unlike Tobias, he remained the man that she hoped and longed for. He was the kind of man that Tobias could never be.

He was kindest and most hardworking person that she’d ever met—and he _loved_ her. He hadn’t even cared that she was poor and quite homely, or that she had a husband (who also happened to be her soulmate) and a child in another town. Although it was wrong and they were in the worst circumstance imaginable, he still found it in himself to love her—and she couldn’t help but fall helplessly in love with him, even though he wasn’t her soulmate.

She wondered where he was now. She took out the crumpled note in her pocket and stared at the numbers across the wrinkled space of the paper. Before she had left, he had given her his number, hoping that she would call him and change her mind about being with Tobias. It had almost been a year since she had last seen him. Was he thinking of her just as she was? Did he even remember her? Would he still accept her after all this time?

He was the only one… he was the only one who cared about her, and he was Hermione’s father. He didn’t even know that she had left with his baby in her womb.

Being with him had made her happy beyond relief, and she hadn’t regretted giving her body to him even though she had already promised herself to Tobias. What she regretted, however, was leaving him even as he begged her to run away with him. As great as her love was for him, her love for Severus was greater. So, she broke both of their hearts and went back to Spinner’s End—to her broken home, broken husband, and broken dreams, but to her beautiful baby boy.

The greatest gift that Henry Shacklebolt had given her was Hermione and she hoped that Hermione had gotten his gold heart as well.

She fisted her hands, crumpling the note in her palm, as she looked over her daughter and son. “I won’t let anything happen to both of you,” she whispered quietly before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

By the time that Tobias went home late at night, howling Eileen’s name through his drunken haze, they were already gone.

* * *

Hermione knew that Eileen was planning something the moment that she had uttered her promise, but she never expected that the older witch would pack her bags and leave Tobias, taking them with her. Honestly, Hermione couldn’t blame Eileen. Even though she had only spent a week at most with him, she saw the signs of a hateful man and she was glad that Eileen had chosen to do the right thing rather than consider the easy way out.

But Hermione was agitated as well, her nerves spiking up as she was held in Eileen’s arms, the chilly air of the night making her shiver even as the tight cloth was wrapped around her, protecting her from most of the elements of the night. It was already late at night and they had been walking for a while now. For the life of her, she still couldn’t fathom how she got there. She knew that her unforeseen presence had already caused changes; she just didn’t know what those changes entailed and what they could mean in the future.

She didn’t know if Eileen had cheated on Tobias in her original timeline, or if she had gotten pregnant and had a daughter. Did Professor Snape have a younger sister that they didn’t know about or was Hermione just an unexpected equation caused by the unknown curse that Bellatrix had thrown her way? Did this happen in her timeline? Had Eileen gotten Professor Snape out before Tobias could get his disgusting hands on him and damage him further?

With a sinking stomach, she surmised—based on Professor Snape’s actions that was scarily reminiscent of his father’s behaviors—that Eileen hadn’t. Was her presence the catalyst then? Had she done this? Was she the reason why this change occurred? All she had now were speculations, and the horrible reminder of Professor McGonagall's warning: terrible things happened to wizards who meddled with time.

She was proud of Eileen for getting herself and Severus out of Tobias’ life, but that didn’t change the fact that the events were all wrong. She couldn’t help but brace herself for the consequence later, her mind already thinking of the worst to come. She didn’t even know if Eileen’s actions tonight could change something drastic in the future. There was also huge possibility that the future she had known was or would be gone forever.

And what would happen to her then? What she feared the most—aside from failure and being useless—was the uncertainty. Aside from all major events in the past— _present?_ —she didn’t have a clue about the personal events that would happen to the people around her. She didn’t know the family she was born into; she couldn’t research to find anything about them; she was still also, very much a _baby_ ; and she was completely out of her depth.

“Mummy, tired,” said Severus from Eileen’s hold as he rubbed his eyes with a tiny fist.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” Eileen assured the small two-years-old boy as she rubbed his head.

It wasn’t before long when they finally arrived at the bus station and curiously enough, a man with sun kissed skin and rich brown curls stood up from his seat at seeing Eileen. He was a bit shorter than Eileen but had a rather stocky built and wiry muscles. He was rather plain-looking, but his eyes were kind and his smile was affable. There was something calm about the man as well; his presence was like a soothing balm to an open wound.

But Hermione didn’t care about that, because the moment she’d seen him, she was instantly drawn to his eyes.

Because it was _her_ eyes.

There was no denying that this person was probably her father. For a moment, Hermione was relieved at the proof that she wasn’t related to Tobias, even as she carried his name. Though she couldn’t help but wonder if Eileen had met him in her original timeline.

“Henry!” Eileen called out in relief and Hermione winced at her loud voice.

Being a baby was certainly getting some use to.

The man, Henry, smiled although there was sadness lingering at the corner of his lips. “Eileen, I’m glad you’re safe.” His voice was surprisingly deep and raspy, as though he had gone long without using it. His eyes landed on the small bundle in her arms where he met a pair of eyes that were in the exact same shade as his, and he looked as though he’d been punched in the stomach. “I… Is that…?”

Eileen fidgeted. “Yes… this is Hermione,” turning to her son, she introduced him as well, “and this is Severus.”

Severus shuffled behind his mother, shyly sneaking a peek at the stranger who knew his mother. Henry smiled kindly at the young boy before turning his attention to Hermione, a flash of longing across his face. He opened his mouth, but no one knew what he was about to say when the bus finally arrived.

No words were needed as Henry gently took hold of Eileen’s arm and the small travelling bag on her elbow, and all four of them—with Severus holding on to Eileen’s hand and with Hermione in her other arm—stepped into the bus— _together._

(And, while Hermione didn’t know it yet, the sands of time shifted as the wind of the future changed its course. Whether it was for the best or for the worst, that remained to be seen.)


	3. The Life and Lies of Hermione Snape – Part II

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.**

** Chapter Three **

**_The Life and Lies of Hermione Snape – Part II_ **

It had been three months. Three months since Hermione woke up and discovered that she was in the past. Nearly three months since Eileen left Tobias and moved into Henry’s home. Three months and everything still felt strange for her.

She had already eliminated the assumption that she had time-travelled. Time travel shouldn’t have erased her identity as Hermione Granger, but here, it was different; she was in a whole new world entirely where a different identity was given to her. Like a phoenix rising from its ashes, Hermione was certain that for some reason she had been reborn into the past.

Here, she wasn’t Hermione Granger, the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter, but rather she was Hermione Snape, the younger sister of Severus Snape.

She didn’t know what this information implied. Was she reborn into the past because Bellatrix intended it so or something _other_ wanted her there? But, if that were the case, she was either transported there because of the curse or—she gulped nervously—the curse had killed her. Admittedly, the latter shook her to the core.

She had been prepared to die fighting in the war. She knew the risks. She knew what would happen if she was captured. But she had never imagined that she would end up like this. Being reborn into the past and becoming Professor Snape’s sister (with the memories of her past life still in her mind) hadn’t been in her list of possibilities and probabilities.

She could no longer go back and her heart sank to the hollow pit in her stomach. She couldn’t help but think of Harry’s bright green eyes, of Ron’s lopsided smile, of Mrs. Weasley’s tasty snacks, of Ginny’s free spirit, of Neville’s sheepish expression, of Luna’s trance-like stare—and she couldn’t imagine not seeing them again.

Oh, it hurt. She wondered if they were mourning her right now and if they’re thinking about her. Was Harry thinking about their one dance of comfort and support in the tent or was he remembering the moment when she offered to die with him? Was Ron reenacting the way she admonished him to eat with his mouth closed or was he reminiscing the one kiss they shared that spoke of promises for better days and brighter futures?

She hadn’t realized that she was crying until she felt tiny hands wiping her face. She looked up and saw the younger version of Professor Snape who was watching her with worried eyes. It seemed that he had snuck into her room again, unable to stand their separation though he was rather fond of his new room.

She sobbed, trying to be as quiet as she could, and she could see his worry growing in his eyes. She now understood why she hadn’t recognized him as Professor Snape before. It was so strange to see such an open expression on Professor Snape’s face whose default expression alternated between a sardonic sneer and a hard frown.

“Shh, don’t cry,” Professor Snape whispered as he brushed the tears from her eyes and patted her head.

She wanted to laugh hysterically at how bizarre this whole thing was. She still didn’t know why she was there or how she had gotten the part of playing Severus Snape’s younger sister. She was honestly prepared to resent and push him away, but she struggled. He wasn’t the hateful and spiteful professor from her past. Right now, he was nothing more than a boy.

She still didn’t know how and why Severus Snape, the professor, had turned out the way he did in the future. To be honest, this Snape wasn’t anything like Professor Snape even though they shared the same name and all. The Snape from her past— _future?_ —was completely different from the Snape of her present.

This Snape, who had been given the role of ‘big brother’, was infinitely sweet and protective of her. He was awfully sensitive to her moods, always knowing if she was hot, cold, hungry, or sleepy, and he was attentive to her needs as well. He was the boy who snuck into her room late at night just to sleep with her hand in his; the boy who threw a tantrum whenever Eileen tried to take her away from him.

The contrast was fascinating—and a touch bit awkward as well—and she could just imagine Professor Snape’s horror once he found out that his younger sister was none other than the insufferable know-it-all Gryffindor in his Potions class who had set him on fire.

Snape as a Hogwarts professor was horrible while Snape as an older brother was oddly tolerable.

“I’m here, Herminny,” Professor Snape (she had got to stop thinking of him like that) whispered in consoling tones and rocked the small crib that Henry built for her a week after they moved into his home.

Hermione couldn’t help but stare at him. He was so different from the person she knew, and she wondered what circumstance had changed him for the worst. Did Tobias successfully beat the sweet boy out of him? Or did James and Sirius? Did Voldemort? She didn’t know and she absolutely hated not knowing. There was so much of his life that they hadn’t known and everyone was too quick to judge and dismiss him that nobody cared to ask.

Her heart ached. Professor Snape wasn’t a saint; he was a spiteful man ruled by his hate and anger. He made her shed far too many tears to count and made her feel like an insignificant worm worthy of being stepped on. But this boy wasn’t her professor; he was her big brother, and she couldn’t imagine him becoming the man that he would be in the future.

 _Severus,_ she thought to herself, _he is Severus._

And she prayed, with all her heart, that he would never become Professor Snape.

* * *

Growing up with the Shacklebolt/Snapes was a different experience all together than when she was with the Grangers. The family dynamic was strange for Hermione who had been born to sensible (and married) parents. Even though Herman and Jean Granger loved their only daughter, they were also busy with their dental practice which resulted in Hermione’s independent behavior. Hermione couldn’t exactly say that they were wealthy, but they did have enough money to have frequent vacations outside of the country.

On the other hand, Henry and Eileen were very hands on with Hermione and Severus even though Henry was busy working as a construction worker and Eileen was working part-time in a laundry shop. They didn’t have plenty but they had enough to eat three meals a day which was more than what Eileen and Severus used to have back in Spinner’s End.

They lived in Cokeworth—but on the other side of the town away from Spinner’s End—in Henry’s small two-story house with three rooms, one bathroom, one kitchen/dining room, and one small yard (with a vegetable garden that Eileen had started two months ago). Neither of them had seen Tobias since the day that Eileen had left him; Eileen and Henry weren’t very keen on mentioning him either even though Eileen was still married to him.

She often fantasized the idea of writing to Albus Dumbledore, of telling him the truth and making him take her away from all of this. But she knew that revealing the hidden depths of her mind could be a disaster. It was safer if only a few people knew what she was hiding, of the future stored in her head. So, even if she wanted to write the Headmaster of Hogwarts Academy, she forced herself not to. Besides, she didn’t know if he would help her or mold her into a martyr (the same way that he had done to Harry).

She couldn’t deny that this life would probably be easy if she didn’t remember the memories from her previous life. She could see herself embracing her new family, but with her knowledge of the future, she constantly found herself holding back. Even being Severus Snape’s sister was difficult for her (especially when flashes of his unseeing eyes, torn neck, and blood— _too much blood—_ invaded her mind).

But she wanted to. The longing in her heart grew whenever she saw Eileen’s expectant eyes, Henry’s patient smile, and Severus’ affectionate look. She knew that they all loved her and for that, she tried harder. She wanted to love them just as much as they loved her. Reluctant as she was, she reminded herself firmly to call Henry ‘dad’, to call Eileen ‘mum’, and to hold Severus Snape’s hand as tightly as he held hers.

And in time, it got easier.

She no longer flinched whenever Eileen cuddled her; she didn’t turn away and refuse whenever Henry offered to read with her; and she could now look at Severus in the eye without remembering the way he died.

She was two when she hugged Eileen for the first time. She was nearly three when she asked Henry if they could read a book together. She was four when she squeezed Severus’ hand.

She didn’t forget. She could still see Harry and Ron whenever she closed her eyes, could hear Ginny and Luna’s cries whenever she went to sleep, but she didn’t let her memories of them hold her back anymore. Some part of her would always be Hermione Granger, the bushy-haired know-it-all muggleborn in Gryffindor, but she made room for Hermione Snape, the bushy-haired know-it-all half-blood sister of Severus Snape—and in time, that room got bigger and bigger.

Until she was both Hermione Granger and Hermione Snape—and that was okay.

* * *

Hermione had first seen the name on Eileen’s wrist when she was five-years-old. Even though she insisted that she could read the book on her own, Eileen still wanted to read her to sleep.

“Knowing you,” Eileen had said, “you would probably forget to sleep because you’d be busy reading.”

Hermione blushed but didn’t deny it, knowing that it would be futile anyway. She had started reading before she was two-years-old and could formulate complete sentences before she was three; things that awed both Henry and Eileen at that time. She had already been addressed by her primary teachers as a ‘gifted child’ and Eileen and Henry couldn’t be prouder of her. Like her parents in her previous life, they knew how much of a voracious reader she was.

Eileen had just kissed her forehead after tucking her to bed and was about to turn off the lamp by her head when Hermione saw the name starkly written across her wrist, illuminated by the bright light.

 _Tobias Snape,_ it read, and Hermione felt horrified.

“What’s that?!” Hermione cried out, lurching from her bed, jolted awake because of what she had seen.

Eileen startled. “What?” She breathed out. “What is it?”

Hermione pointed at her wrist; her gaze intense. “Did he do that to you?”

Tobias was rarely mentioned in their household. Henry and Eileen tended to ignore his existence, pretending that he wasn’t Eileen’s husband and Severus’s biological father. But Tobias’ presence casted a shadow over their lives, like a dark stain that wouldn’t go away. As far as Henry and Eileen were concerned, Hermione’s knowledge of Tobias only consisted of his marriage to her mother and nothing else. They didn’t know that she knew what Tobias had done to them.

Eileen clamped a hand over her wrist, now realizing that the name was exposed. “You shouldn’t have seen that,” she mumbled quietly, pulling her sleeves down in an attempt to hide the name, but it was already too late; Hermione had seen it.

“Did he do that to you?” Hermione repeated, now furious on behalf of Eileen. Did Tobias do that in order to stake his claim over Eileen like some kind of depraved, disgusting piece of a human being?

Eileen gave her daughter a small smile, reaching up brushed her curly hair away from her young troublesome face. “Oh, Hermione, you are still so young. You don’t have to concern yourself with this kind of things.” A pensive look took over her face. “Just remember, Hermione, that I will always love you no matter what. Whatever you do and whoever you choose to be with, I won’t stop you and my love for you will always remain. Please, remember that Hermione.”

To say that Hermione was confused would be an understatement. She wanted to continue demanding answers, but stopped herself when she saw Eileen’s closed off expression. She had spent so long with Harry that she knew when to push her luck and when to stop. So, she let Eileen tuck her to bed and let her kiss her forehead for the last time that night before leaving the room, her shoulder hunched and her movements timid.

Sleep didn’t come to her that night as her mind was filled with thoughts of the name on Eileen’s skin and her reaction to it. It surprised her that it took so long for her to notice the name, but then again, Eileen tended to wear clothes with long sleeves, and it had been recent that Hermione started paying attention to her current family.

She thought that Eileen just preferred to wear conservative clothes that didn’t show much skin. Now, she knew the purpose of those long sleeves, but that didn’t make her feel any better. It was apparent now that Eileen wasn’t comfortable exposing the name if her reaction to Hermione discovering it was anything to go by.

There were no other words to describe what she felt other than disgust and anger. The _audacity_ , Hermione fumed in her bed, glowering at the ceiling. It was all so truly disgusting. She wanted nothing more than to march to where Tobias was and curse him for the name branded across Eileen’s skin. She hoped that wherever he was that he would choke for the grief that he had caused Eileen.

She didn’t know what time she finally slept, but she woke up bleary-eyed and disoriented, unable to gather her bearings and faculties together. She headed downstairs in sluggish strides, rubbing her tired eyes, but then she paused at the end of the stairs when she heard Eileen’s voice and her name.

“Hermione saw the mark last night,” Eileen had said, her voice quiet and unsure. “I didn’t realize that she’d seen it until she asked me what it was.”

Henry’s voice followed to respond to her. “What did you say?” His voice, like Eileen, was quiet.

“I… I didn’t answer her; truthfully, I evaded her question. I didn’t want her to know what it means.”

It took a long while for Henry to reply. “Do you miss him?”

“Henry…”

“It’s a valid question, Eileen. We don’t talk about him, and I get why; but this conversation is long overdue. Don’t you think so? I know that you love me, but he’s your soulmate…”

 _Soulmate?_ Hermione wondered, leaning closer to the direction where the voices came from, intrigued by Henry’s statement and valid points. But _soulmate?_ Why did Henry use that term instead of husband?

“…and you two were married for a long while,” Henry grunted. “He’s Severus’ father. Like I said, Eileen, it’s a valid question.”

A long-drawn-out sigh. “Henry, there will always be a part of him that misses Tobias; it’s something that I can’t help within myself. He had been the first person to treat me with kindness, even though it was only for a short time; that’s why I fell in love with him years ago. But the good man in him is gone, and now, I’m just sad that I lost that I lost the good part of him.”

“Right now, I’m happy,” Eileen said, imploring Henry to believe her. “I’m happy with you, with Severus, and with Hermione, and even if Tobias managed to change or become good again, I wouldn’t trade our family for the soulmate that I lost. He might be my soulmate, but you and _our_ children are my life. So, you have nothing to worry about.”

Hermione stood there in befuddlement; her eyebrows furrowed tightly as she sorted out their conversation in her mind. One thing that stood out for her was the word ‘soulmate’ because it didn’t make sense whatsoever. In her previous life, that was a term spoken only by lovesick girls when they referred to their boyfriends. She heard Lavender referring Ron as her soulmate to Parvati once and even Ginny, at the tender age of eleven, told Hermione that Harry was her soulmate (followed by a wistful sigh).

But it was never anything concrete or definite though. It was just an idea that garnered heartwarming thoughts and fuzzy feelings. As far as she knew, it was a romantic term that she never gave stock about. Although she was in love Ron for the last four years of her life before, she never thought or referred to him as her soulmate or anything. So, it didn’t make sense to her that Henry used that term to refer Tobias specifically.

Unless, of course, Eileen performed some sort of powerful magic that led her to her soulmate (which turned out to be Tobias, a good-for-nothing piece of dungbomb) and that was why it was the term they used. Hermione knew that there were a lot of obscure magic in pureblood families (the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black could attest to that) and Eileen did come from a pureblood family. Maybe she performed a ritual that revealed who her soulmate was.

But that didn’t exactly explain why Tobias’ name was tattooed across her wrist though. She pursed her lips in deep contemplation. The longer she remained in this time, the more she felt like this wasn’t her world. It was not because of her displacement in the past or any other. Something was obviously not right and she grew frustrated that she couldn’t find the answers to the questions barraging in her mind.

“Severus?! Hermione?!” Hermione startled out of her thoughts at Eileen’s sudden shout. “Breakfast is ready!”

Hermione waited for a few minutes before she rounded around the corner and to the kitchen where Henry sat on a kitchen stool, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand as he read the newspaper while Eileen busied herself near the stove, preparing a pan of scrambled eggs in the muggle way.

Although Eileen could now perform magic because of Henry being a squib (and Hermione knew that Henry was okay with it, unlike Tobias), she still insisted doing things the muggle way. Hermione didn’t know if it was because she was comfortable and accustomed doing muggle ways or being with Tobias had made her spurn magic and everything about it entirely.

“Good morning, darling,” Henry greeted her with an absentminded smile, engrossed with his morning paper to give her anything else. There was a pencil in one of his hands. He must be playing the crossword puzzle again.

“Good morning,” Hermione said, hesitatingly adding, “dad.”

If Hermione didn’t know any better, she’d say that they never had the heavy conversation that she just heard a moment ago. They looked relaxed, Henry more so. Eileen’s assurances must’ve had eased his mind.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” said Eileen, shooting her a smile over her shoulder. “Did you see your brother on your way down?”

“No,” Hermione answered as she came closer. She murmured a thank you to Henry when he helped her sit on the kitchen stool next to him. “He’s likely still asleep. The answer is ‘jukebox’,” she added, spying Henry’s crossword puzzle.

“Really?” Henry scratched his head, analyzing the word. “Huh, you’re right. Why, aren’t you a smart girl? You must’ve gotten it from your mum.” He and Eileen shared a sweet smile before he dropped a kiss on Hermione’s head. “Thanks, darling.”

Eileen laughed as Hermione just ducked her head down, a small grin playing across her lips, but her mind remained full of thoughts and her desire for answers demanded her to quench its thirst. The seed of doubt had been planted.

* * *

Every Sunday, Henry and Eileen took both Severus and Hermione to a nearby park where they could play in the playground and socialize with other kids, while Henry and Eileen prepared the picnic table. Sunday was usually Henry’s day off from work, so the family made sure to spend the time together. However, while that was the goal of this family event, everyone knew that this day was all for Henry and Severus.

Hermione watched as Henry taught Severus how to swing a baseball bat, correcting his stance, offering advices, and giving encouragements. Her eyes lingered on Severus whose smile was as bright as the sun in the sky. Gone was the skinny and scared two-years-old boy who held her hand whenever he slept, replaced by a boy of seven years with slightly chubby cheeks and a cheeky smile.

Out of all changes that had happened (because of her presence), this was one of the few that she was relieved and happy about the most. This was the life that Professor Snape never got to have and she was glad that at least this Severus received this chance. He would no longer grow up as a poor and beaten boy that was hated by everyone he met. Now, he could thrive in an environment surrounded by the people who loved him.

“Tuney! Wait for me!”

Hermione blinked out of her daze and shifted her attention to the two girls playing nearby, their backs were turned to her but their laughter filling the air. One was blonde while the other was a redhead. Her gaze was instantaneously stuck on the girl with red hair, mesmerized by the sight of it. Ginny’s hair had been red, but it never gleamed the same way as the girl’s hair. It was straight and it looked so silky that it nearly made her envious.

“Catch me if you can, Lily!” The one with blonde hair exclaimed to the redhead.

 _Lily?_ It didn’t take long for that name to send pangs of familiarity into Hermione. Her eyes widened at the possibility and the notion of its name. Could it be? What were the odds that she was somehow in the same place as a girl with red hair called Lily, the girl whose physique aptly described her best friend’s mother?

 _The mother that he never met. The mother who died too young to save her son,_ those thoughts barged through her mind. Her breath hitched when she caught a glimpse of bright green eyes, so eerily reminiscent of the ones Harry had. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes and it took every strength she could muster not to cry.

She quickly turned away from the sight and started sprinting towards Eileen who was preparing a pitcher of cold pineapple juice. Without saying anything to her, her arms immediately circled around Eileen’s waist, her face burying itself into her sharp hips. She took in Eileen’s comforting scent, her eyes closed, the pain in her heart easing bit by bit, although it could not stop the storm brewing in her mind.

“Hermione, sweetheart?” She could hear the confusion and worry in Eileen’s voice, and felt her dainty hand rubbing her head. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Her lips trembled. _It’s unfair!_ She wanted to say to her. Harry never got the chance to meet his mother. Harry never saw her in person. He never got to see the bright light in her eyes or hear the way her melodic laughter filled the air. For all accounts and purposes, _Harry_ should be the one here, not her. At least, if he was here, he would get the chance to meet his parents and know who they truly were, not merely relying on secondhand accounts from someone else. It felt so unfair that the world had taken this from him.

She wanted to throw the biggest tantrum that she was capable of. She wanted to wail and curse the situation she was in. She wanted to break something, to hurt herself, for all of this. Just when she thought she had adjusted to this life, it seemed that one glimpse of Lily Evans Potter had undone years of hard work and dedication. For the first time in a long time, she raged against her existence in the past and her knowledge of what was about to come.

“Hermione?” She heard Severus’ worried voice behind her—which made everything worse. “Hermione? What happened?”

Hermione didn’t respond, afraid that the words that would spill forth from her mouth could reveal things they wouldn’t understand. She could already feel Severus’ concern radiating off of him, his overprotective nature kicking in in the face of his sister’s distress. Yes, his presence truly made everything worse for her.

It suddenly occurred to Hermione that if she and Severus had a near encounter with the Evans sisters right now, then there was a possibility that Professor Snape had met Harry’s mother when they were young in Hermione’s previous life. But then, during the Horcrux hunt, Harry revealed to her that Professor Snape had called his mother a mudblood (after being mercilessly bullied by his father and godfather). If they met and had been friends before they went to Hogwarts, why did he call her a mudblood and proceed to join the Death Eaters?

A theory bloomed in her head but with no resources to confirm it, it exploded into dust, withering away. As far as everyone knew, _this_ was their reality, so even if Lily and Severus had met and become friends in Hermione’s old life, then it would be quite irrelevant right now.

“Hermione?” She felt Severus’ hand on her arm, his touch gentle and soothing.

She gulped down the lump from her throat and pulled away from Eileen’s comforting warmth. “I’m okay,” she finally replied, her voice quiet and her eyes averted.

“You’re not,” Severus stubbornly disagreed, frowning.

“Why don’t you sit down, darling?” Henry suggested, gently taking her hand, before ushering her to sit on a picnic bench. He then wiped Hermione’s brow with a towel as he addressed Eileen. “Eileen, love? Can you pour Hermione a glass of juice? The heat must be bothering her.”

“I’ll do it,” Severus said eagerly, wanting to do something that could ease Hermione’s mind.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Eileen said to Severus as she took a seat next to Hermione. Sweeping a concerned eye over her daughter’s withdrawn features, she tenderly brushed an unruly curl away from her face. “What’s wrong, Hermione? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Hermione blinked her eyes, looked at Eileen then at Henry, before her gaze landed on Severus who was pouring a glass of juice across the table. Although she missed Herman and Jean Granger, she had also come to love Eileen Snape and Henry Shacklebolt. Although wary of Severus at first, she had begun to care deeply for him. Their concern had touched her and the remorse that rose within her, sparked by Lily Evans’ appearance, sunk in the face of their love for her.

“I’m alright,” she assured them, “I guess I became emotional for a second. I’m… I’m just happy that… that we’re all together.”

Eileen’s eyes softened. She shot Henry a sweet look of affection before she swept Hermione into a tight hug. “Never grow up, Hermione,” she murmured fondly to her hair.

Hermione snuggled in her embrace, her eyes meeting Severus’ who was watching them with a slight smile on his face. She smiled back. Things from here on out would be full of uncertainty. One thing was for sure though: she would never allow Severus Snape become a Death Eater. They would have to go over her dead body first.

* * *

“Hermione, darling? Come down! Lunch is ready!” Hermione heard Eileen yelling from downstairs.

With pursed lips of dismay, she shut her book close and jumped down from her spot in the bed. “Coming,” she yelled back, and there was no hesitance in her voice when she added, “Mum!”

She immediately went downstairs to the kitchen where Eileen was busy making sandwiches while Severus was busy eating them on the kitchen stool.

“Where have you been?” Severus asked as he helped her take a sit on the kitchen stool beside him. At age ten, Severus was growing like a weed. He was already taller than the kitchen counter. “Here. Eat.”

He handed her a sandwich which she accepted. “I was in my room, reading,” she answered after taking a bite and chewing with her mouth closed. Her years with Ronald Weasley had taught her to be extra mindful of her table manners. “Just like you, I suspect,” she added, nodding towards a book on the counter. The cover read: _‘Nursery Rhymes for Children’;_ but they both knew that the book was none other than a copy of an advanced potions book for sixth years. “How many times have you read that?”

“About the same time that you’ve read _Hogwarts, A History,_ if I’m not mistaken,” was his cheeky answer.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, a small and genuine smile crossing her face. She was now nine years old and her stomach no longer churned at her and Severus’ camaraderie. She no longer denied how much she enjoyed their siblinghood. It wasn’t like her comfortable friendship with Harry or tumultuous relationship with Ron, but it had its own charm and uniqueness. It was warm and comfortable, and it was theirs.

“Have you two gone through my Hogwarts books again?” Eileen asked from the other side of the kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow at them (it was unnervingly similar to how Professor Snape would raise an eyebrow in her original timeline).

Severus and Hermione exchanged alarmed looks. Eileen told them countless of times not to meddle with her magical items, citing that they were dangerous for them. However, Severus and Hermione, being inquisitive children, couldn’t help themselves. Truthfully, it was Severus who had first went through Eileen’s cache, and Hermione had been roped into it, tempted by the books that Severus dangled under her nose, unapologetically exploiting her desire and eagerness to learn.

“No, we didn’t!” Severus immediately denied at the same time that Hermione cried, “It was just the books!”

Severus shot a deadpanned glance at Hermione while she sheepishly ducked her head, knowing that she had just exposed them. Eileen shook her head at the both of them.

“Slytherin, you are not, Hermione,” she said, a ghost of a smile on her face, before she admonished them. “And how many times have I told you to stay away from my things? You can seriously get hurt.”

“It’s just the books though,” mumbled Hermione to her sandwich.

“That doesn’t mean that it’s okay to snoop around my things and use them,” Eileen countered. She pursed her lips, waiting for them to respond since they had the tendency to talk back, especially Severus. When they didn’t speak, she continued, “I want you to bring back all the books that you’ve taken and return them to my trunk. After that, you are going to pull out the weeds in the garden as punishment.”

This time, Severus had something to say. “But Mum,” he groused, slumping in his seat; there was an unflattering shade of red across his cheeks, “you told us that you’d take us to the park today.”

“Well, that was before I found out that you were snooping around,” Eileen said. “Besides, it’s just weeds.”

“But they’re hard to pull out!”

“Then you’d better get started then,” Eileen responded firmly. “Who knows? If you finish early, then maybe we can go to the park like I’ve promised you.”

Both siblings groaned under their breath, but was silenced by Eileen’s offer. After finishing their lunch—and also putting the books back to its rightful place—both Hermione and Severus went to the backyard where a small garden was set up at the edge.

Eileen and Henry had worked on it vigorously in order to plant vegetables and sell it at the street market a couple of blocks from home. Although they had enough to satisfy their needs, Henry believed and Eileen agreed that extra money didn’t hurt especially with two children in the house. Hermione and Severus helped whenever they could but it was undeniable that they would rather read their books instead.

“This is all your fault,” said Severus with a pout on his face, petulance etched across his face as he struggled to pull a stubborn weed from the ground.

“My fault?” Hermione almost winced at hearing her shrilly voice. “You were the one who brought up reading and mentioning _Hogwarts, A History_ in front of Mum!”

“You were the one who told her about the books!” He shot back with a fierce glare.

“You were the one who went through her things in the first place!”

“And you went along with it!”

They glowered at each other for a minute or so before they went back to pulling weeds, now quiet as they had gotten their anger out of their system. Hermione stole glances at Severus as she worked, still finding herself in disbelief whenever she noted something similar between them.

Not only were they avid readers, but they were awfully stubborn as well. It was quite frightening, to be honest. She didn’t know if their similarities were due to the fact that they shared blood or if they were similar long before she was reborn into this world. She could already imagine Professor Snape’s disdain if someone pointed out their similarities to him.

“Ack!” Hermione hissed, jumping back from the weed that she had just been pulling to examine her hand. Streaked with dirt and bits of grass, there was now a thin strip of red on her palm. She had pulled too hard, it seemed.

“What happened?” In a flash, Severus was suddenly beside her, gently taking her open palm in his hand. His eyes widened at seeing the blood. “You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “I just pulled too hard, but I’m fine.”

“We have to go to the hospital!” Severus cried out, panicking as he looked from left to right, trying to find something that can stop the bleeding.

“We have to tell Mum!” Severus exclaimed, grabbing her wrist, and dragging her back to the house. “We have to go to the hospital before you bleed to death!”

“Ack! _Severus!_ ” She yelped as she unwillingly followed after him.

Had she mentioned that he was also prone to fits of drama and overreaction?

“Mum! Mum! Hermione’s hurt!” Severus called out, pulling her with him to the kitchen. In the doorway, he abruptly stopped without a warning. “Mum?”

“I told you that I’m fine!” Hermione uttered, exasperated, pulling her wrist out of his grasp. Rubbing her wrist, she looked over his shoulder and paused when she saw the unknown woman standing in the kitchen next to their mother.

As intimidating as Neville’s grandmother and just as old (back in her original timeline though), the woman raised a disapproving eyebrow at seeing the both of them standing in the doorway with dirt and grass in their hands and knees. She was sitting on a kitchen stool, her hands folded on a wooden cane between her legs. She wore an expensive looking royal blue robe, and the stern expression across her face reminded Hermione of Professor McGonagall. She also looked awfully like Eileen and a bit like Severus with pasty skin, stringy black hair, and almond-shaped dark brown eyes.

Eileen started at seeing the both of them and she fidgeted as she threw glances at the older woman in the room. “Children, what are you two doing here?”

“Hermione’s hurt,” Severus answered at the same time that Hermione said, “We’re just leaving.”

The siblings both glanced at each other as Eileen shook her head fondly at them. The unknown woman merely watched them, the beginning of a sneer curling on her lips. Hermione’s eyes widened. That looked awfully like Professor Snape’s sneer.

“She needs to go to the hospital! Look!” Severus grabbed her attention the same way he had grabbed her hand to show Eileen her small wound.

Eileen headed towards them and examined Hermione’s hand. “It’s just a small wound, Severus,” she said softly with a fond smile across her lips. “A little bit of a band aid and she will be okay.”

“I told you so,” Hermione said, slipping her hand from Severus’ hold. She then darted a glance at the stranger in the room who was watching them with distaste in her eyes, curious about who she was and why she was there.

Seeing that her daughter’s attention was diverted elsewhere, Eileen sighed and gestured to the stranger. “Severus, Hermione, this is your grandmother, Desdemona Prince. Mother, this is Severus and Hermione.”

No one said a word after the brief introduction. Both children were eyeing the elder witch who was scrutinizing them with a critical eye. Severus, not liking the way she was staring at them, scowled, and stepped forward to hide Hermione behind him. Protecting her as always since the very beginning.

“Why is she here?” Even at only ten years old, Severus had already perfected Professor Snape’s sharp tongue. “What does she want from us?”

“Are half-blood children always this disrespectful to their elders?” Desdemona sniffed haughtily as she addressed the cold question to her daughter. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, what with his father being a muggle and her father being a squib. You surely know how to pick them, Eileen.”

Severus froze, his hands clenching into tiny fists, while Hermione flushed in indignation in behalf of her brother. Tobias was a sore spot for Severus. For as long as Hermione could remember, Severus denied any relation that he had with Tobias and wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn’t easy especially since they almost looked alike, but for Severus, Henry was his true father and Hermione agreed wholeheartedly.

“Mother,” Eileen admonished her as she wrung her wrists. “You can say whatever you want about me and T-Tobias. But you leave Henry and my children out of this. Henry is a good man.”

“He is a squib,” Desdemona firmly reminded Eileen, looking quite disgusted by her declaration. “I don’t even know what’s worse: a muggle for a soulmate or spawning a child of a squib. You are lucky that you are a pureblood, Eileen, otherwise your children will never get to have magic.”

“I think that’s enough.” Everyone turned to look at Severus who stared at Desdemona with a hard expression on his face. “If you came here just to insult us, then I suggest that you leave. Your judgments have no place here.”

“You will not speak if you are not spoken to, boy!” Desdemona spat at Severus, an ugly look of rage contorting her wrinkled face. Then her face smoothened into the perfect pureblood mask as she turned to address Eileen. “Besides, you know why I came here, Eileen.”

To Hermione’s surprise, both Eileen and Desdemona shifted their attention to her. Severus tensed and Hermione’s eyes narrowed when Desdemona roamed a critical eye over her, her judgments written across her face as plain as day. The witch certainly didn’t hold her opinions back from them and Hermione wondered if this was part of the reason why Eileen clung to Tobias so much, because he gave her the chance to get away from this awful witch.

“A pity she doesn’t look like a Prince,” she declared with a haughty sniff, looking down her nose at Hermione. “She must’ve gotten her features from her squib father.”

Hermione stiffened. It was true that she looked like Henry although she had inherited Eileen’s her pasty complexion. Although she was as slim as her mother, she unfortunately didn’t inherit her height. From an outsider’s perspective, they could say that she was a younger, more feminine version of Henry with her honey-brown eyes and bushy brown hair. However, it was only Hermione who knew that her current physical features were exactly the same as from her previous life.

“Things would be easier if she looked like a Prince,” Desdemona continued. “She will do, I suppose.”

Her face slipped into a confused expression. “Pardon me, but I have no I idea what you’re talking about.”

Desdemona huffed but didn’t respond. So, Hermione’s gaze jumped to Eileen who looked nervous as she wrung her wrists. Meanwhile, now standing beside her, Severus looked just as confused as she was.

“Hermione,” Eileen began with a shaky edge to her voice, “your grandmother came here because she… she wants you to be her heiress.”

Her eyes widened. What in the world did she say?

“Heiress?” She repeated incredulously. “An heiress to… to the House of Prince?” She assumed. “But you were disowned, Mum, and why me? I’m not the oldest child. For all intents and purposes, Severus should be the heiress or heir in his case.”

Eileen shook her head. “The Prince family, unlike the rest of the Houses, is matriarchal. It means that the first-born female in the direct bloodline will inherit the House. I may have been disowned and I won’t get the chance to inherit anything, but… that doesn’t mean that you can’t, Hermione,” she finished quietly.

“But—”

“What do you mean ‘but’, girl?” Desdemona snapped, cutting Hermione off. The cold glare she directed towards Hermione could’ve freeze her on the spot. “You should be honored! You should be proud that I’ve chosen you to carry the family name! You are the heiress of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Prince!”

“But I’m a half-blood,” Hermione countered, her eyes flashing, her voice sharp, “and, as you have oh-so kindly pointed out, I’m also a daughter of a squib _and_ a bastard. I’m sure that I’m not what you would classify as ‘heiress’ material.”

“Well, we can’t all be perfect,” Desdemona dismissed with a sneer. “You are the first and last female Prince to have ever been born from its direct bloodline. Do not be stupid and let this opportunity go to waste. I’m being generous to you as it is. Do you think that the Shacklebolt family will accept you? They might be a minority, but they wouldn’t dare acknowledge a bastard, half-blooded daughter of a squib, unlike I. You should be thankful.”

Hermione’s temper was rising. Her arrogance and pretentious demeanor were starting to grate on her nerves. It reminded her too much of Draco ‘my-father-will-hear-about-this’ Malfoy. What was up with most purebloods and their sense of entitlement, anyway? It was no wonder how Voldemort had managed to sway them to his cause all too easily.

Keeping her temper in check (something that she perfect while being on the Horcrux hunt), she merely smiled coolly at the elder witch. “Well, then, I thank you for your _generosity._ However, I’m afraid that I’ll have to decline.”

Eileen gaped and Severus was shock at her blunt refusal. Hermione tried not to blush under their scrutiny. She was normally well-mannered and polite, but Desdemona brought out the Gryffindor from her. It was the part of her that set Professor Snape on fire, brewed a NEWTs level potion in an abandoned lavatory, turned back in time to save a Hippogriff and an escaped convict, fought in the Department of Mysteries, and managed to lie under torture.

It was obviously not the answer that Desdemona wanted as her nose flared and her dark brown eyes narrowed. Hermione got the impression that Desdemona wasn’t used to rejection. If that were the cause then she was in for a rude awakening. If she hadn’t surrendered to Bellatrix while she was being tortured, then there was little to no chance that she would bow down to the witch before her.

“You have no say in this matter,” she hissed furiously. “You are nothing but a child.”

“And yet, you are acting nothing like your age,” Hermione countered, ignoring Eileen when she scolded her for her disrespect. It didn’t matter to Hermione much. Desdemona was a witch not worthy of her respect. “My answer is no. I do not want to become a Prince and I want nothing to do with your family. Now, if that’s all you came here for, you’ve clearly wasted your time.”

Desdemona barked out a derisive laugh, but the fury in her eyes told her she wasn’t amused. “Is this the kind of behavior you taught, Eileen?” She spat out through gritted teeth. Severus and Hermione watched as Eileen flinched. “I expected better from you.”

“Don’t talk to our mother like that, and haven’t you heard, you old hag?” The name calling from Severus wasn’t entirely surprising (speaking from someone who lived with him most of their life), but it still managed to stun them into silence. “Hermione said no, and she won’t be changing her mind anytime soon. So, to put it bluntly, get out. You’re not wanted here.”

“Severus,” Eileen admonished, giving him a warning look. She sent her mother a resigned look before she eventually sighed. “Well, mother, I think it’s best if you leave.”

Desdemona’s eyes narrowed before she stiffly stood up, back straight and head high. “It’s obvious that I have overstayed my welcome,” she said, words dragged out of her mouth with difficulty. She pierced Hermione with an unrelenting glare. “Make no mistake. This isn’t over.”

Hermione met her glare with her own. “Good luck,” she remarked with a petty smile. “Also, don’t trip on your way out.”

The fire in Desdemona’s eyes could’ve burned her on the spot. All three of them watched as the witch turned on her heel and left, maintaining the air of cool and levelheaded pureblood witch. The tension in the room fled, likely fleeing along with Desdemona. Eileen’s shoulders sagged in relief as soon as they heard the telltale sign of the apparition crack outside the house.

“Slytherin, you are clearly not, Hermione,” Eileen noted drily, shaking her head. “Also, you two shouldn’t have talked back to her like that. She is your grandmother, after all.”

“She disowned you, Mum,” Severus pointed out unrepentantly. “She shouldn’t have come here. As far as I know, we don’t owe her anything. She’s the one who’s obviously desperate enough to seek us out because she needs an heiress.”

Hermione nodded in agreement whereas Eileen smiled sadly.

“Sometimes you two amaze me and other times, it disparages me. You’re both very astute and clever. Too clever for your own good, actually. But you two are also very much still _children_ ,” she reminded them firmly. “There are a lot of things that you don’t know and you can’t possibly comprehend at this age. So please, stay out of this.”

* * *

Hermione found herself eavesdropping on Eileen and Henry’s conversation that night. She sat at the top of the stairs, leaning her head against the wall where she could easily distinguish their voices and decipher their words. They were speaking about her and what had happened earlier that afternoon. They were debating and going back and forth about the subject.

“It’ll be easier for Hermione if she accepted becoming an heiress to the House of Prince,” said Henry to Eileen, his voice quiet and contemplative. “There’s a reason why she remains a Snape to this day, you know? The Shacklebolt family was kind enough to raise someone like me and then give me their name when I left, but I don’t think that they would extend their kindness to Hermione.”

“Hermione is a half-blood,” Eileen sputtered and then grew quiet.

The hallway was cold and dark, and she curled herself into a small ball, trying not to let it bother her.

“We’re not married, Eileen. She’d be considered a bastard and you know that’s just as worse as a squib or a muggleborn for them in the Wizarding world. Desdemona may have her own agenda, but at least she wants to claim Hermione. Being a Prince will make things easier for her when the time comes and she goes to Hogwarts.”

“I can see your point, Henry. But Hermione already refused to become a Prince heiress anyway,” Eileen huffed. “Also, I don’t want her near my family. You know how they made things difficult for me because of—because of this—this name on my wrist. I don’t want them near Hermione when she finds her soulmate.”

There was that term again. Hermione frowned. Was it a family tradition in the Prince family to find their soulmates or something? It seemed quite strange but then again, compared to the Black’s tendency to lean towards the Dark Arts, she’d take a soulmate any day. Though it couldn’t have been all good since Tobias had been chosen as Eileen’s soulmate and that obviously didn’t end well, so maybe she didn’t have any chances with that either.

“Hermione doesn’t have a mark though. Even we don’t know who her soulmate is. We don’t know if he or she is right for our daughter.”

Intriguing. All so intriguing. She didn’t understand all of this soulmate talk, but she knew that it was important enough to factor into their conversation. Did Henry mean that Hermione didn’t have a mark unlike Eileen? So, they were born with it then? Hermione wondered if it was only for those with Prince bloodline or if everyone in the Wizarding world had a soulmate.

_But that would mean that this world was definitely not her world._

It was not the first time that this thought crossed her mind and it was not the first time she shook that thought away. Time travel was hard enough to accomplish as it was, and very few people know how to resurrect someone from the dead (Voldemort included), so you’d think only a handful of people would know about reincarnation. But being reborn in a different but parallel world, in a different but similar reality, with your memories of your previous life still intact? That was impossible. Even Albus Dumbledore couldn’t accomplish that, so, how could she?

All the people she met and had seen so far existed in her previous life some way or another whether they were dead or not. The logistics of her being reborn in the past was something that still baffled her and she didn’t need another pointless theory to undone all of her work.

It seemed that Eileen and Henry were done with their conversation because their voices grew quiet. Hermione waited for a few minutes before rising to her feet and heading towards her bedroom. She promptly halted in the doorway, surprised to see her older brother sitting on the foot of her bed. The light behind him casted shadows over his face,

“Severus?” She asked softly, coming inside the room. “What are you doing here?”

Severus was staring pensively at the wall, his shoulders hunched. He looked strangely resigned. “Dad’s right, you know,” he suddenly said. Seeing her startled expression, his lips pulled up into a small smirk. “You’re not the only one who listens in their conversation sometimes. Anyway,” he looked away, “it’ll be better for you if you were introduced to Hogwarts as a Prince rather than a… a Snape.”

Hermione was stunned. She couldn’t believe that Severus agreed with Henry. She thought that he would be the last person to agree with her accepting the inheritance.

“But, you’re a Snape,” she pointed out. “Why can’t I be one too?”

Severus gave her a grimace. “You don’t want to be a Snape, Hermione, and you’re not a Snape. You’re a Shacklebolt and a Prince. Those names weigh more than mine.”

“And you think that I care about that?” Hermione demanded, stomping to sit right next to him in her bed. “Do you think that I care about being a Prince heiress or being acknowledged by the Shacklebolt House? I don’t want anything about that.”

He sighed heavily. “You’re thinking of this like a Gryffindor, Hermione,” he muttered impatiently. “For once try to think like a Slytherin. If you become the Prince heiress, you will be accepted and acknowledged, not just by the Shacklebolt House, but to all Houses. You’ll be granted with many opportunities in the Wizarding world if you were a Prince. You will be treated like a pureblood even!”

 _And then, what?_ _Getting recruited by a no-nose red-eyed snake before graduation?_ Hermione fumed. “I don’t _want_ to, Severus. That’s just it. Yes, maybe things will be easier for me if I agree, but I don’t want to. That family caused our mum grief to the point that she married a muggle just to get away. Didn’t you see the way she flinched at Desdemona whenever she raised her voice? That family is not a good one.”

She grabbed Severus’ hand; her gaze intense as she stared into his eyes. “I would rather be the good-for-nothing bastard half-blooded daughter and be with my _real_ family, than become an heiress to a despicable house. It’s not worth it, any of it, if I don’t have you, Mum, and Dad.”

Severus gripped her hand tightly in his, his face scrunched with his eyes closed. “I just want you to be safe,” he whispered in the cold room.

Hermione’s heart sank even as her lips lifted into a smile. “I know you do, Severus.”

 _But you can’t keep me safe forever,_ were words left unsaid.

 _There will be a war you see,_ she wanted to reveal to him, _and I’m going to be in the middle of it._

But she never said it. It was better this way.

* * *

Her wide eyes surveyed the bustling crowd of King’s Cross, her hand grasping Eileen’s in a tight, white-knuckled hold. Henry and Severus were several steps ahead of them, with the former pushing the latter’s trolley and the latter chattering excitedly to the former. Her stomach churned when she spied the wall that would lead them to Hogwarts Express. Her heart started pounding hard against her chest as they got nearer and nearer, and she forced herself to remain calm and relax.

She had managed to survive coming back to Diagon Alley; she could manage this as well. True, she nearly had a breakdown when she saw Mister Ollivander, the wandmaker, but she had pulled herself together in the end for Severus’ sake. In the next two years, she would be next and she had to prepare herself for that.

“Nervous, sweetheart?” Eileen asked beside her, bushing a curl away from her face. “You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“I know,” Hermione murmured, smiling at Severus when he looked over his shoulder before following Henry to the barrier.

They were up next. Hermione closed her eyes as she and Eileen walked into the wall and to the other side. It took a moment or two before she opened her eyes again. She gasped at the scene before her, her hand flexing in Eileen’s hold. The Hogwarts Express was a majestic red behind the glowing and excited faces of the crowd. Children were laughing, hugging their parents, and talking without pausing to breathe. Animals hooted, meowed, and chirped in their cages next to their owners. Everything felt so light and airy that she could almost pretend that somewhere in the crowd, Harry and Ron were waiting for her.

“Hermione!” She blinked out of her daze as Severus got to her face. He was beaming at her as he grabbed her arm and dragged her near the train. “Isn’t this exciting?”

She stared at her older brother, committing his happy face to her memory. She didn’t think that a beam would suit on Professor Snape’s face, but on Severus, it looked nice. At that moment, she suddenly had the irrational urge to convince him to stay. She wanted nothing more than to plead him not to get on the train. She was afraid. She knew that somewhere in that train, James Potter and Sirius Black would bring down his self-worth and make him the hateful professor that she knew back in her previous life.

She didn’t know anything about James Potter aside from the fact that he died while trying to save his family, but she remembered her fondness for Sirius for being the family that Harry always wanted. Yes, he could be quite reckless and impulsive, and they didn’t exactly have the best interactions together, but Harry looked up to the man and for that, Hermione respected him.

But if something happened to her brother because of them, they would get a taste of her wrath. There was a reason why Fred and George hadn’t pranked her throughout their years together after all.

“Promise me to stay out of trouble?” Hermione implored, her fear nearly leaking out from her voice. “At least, try to make friends, and—and don’t forget to write me every day, okay?”

“Every day?” He repeated with an incredulous note in his voice, his eyes shining with amusement and mirth. “I can’t possibly write to you every day. I do have classes, you know, but I will try to write at least once a week.”

Hermione frowned but then nodded in begrudging agreement. “Well, you do have to study hard, I suppose. Fine, every Friday, you write a letter to me, alright?”

He smiled and rubbed her head. “Every Friday, I promise. And you, promise to take care of yourself? I won’t be home until the holidays, so try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

“I only get in trouble because of you,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. Turning pensively to the train, she smiled faintly as she remembered meeting Harry and Ron there for the first time. Not everything could be bad memories. “I’m going to miss you, Severus.”

He squeezed her hand. “Try not to miss me too much,” he remarked with a smirk.

The both of them stood there, staring at the train with their hands clasped together, and fate riding on their shoulders.

But neither of them had to look at the heaven for answers; all they needed rested inside of her.


	4. The Life and Lies of Hermione Snape – Part III

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter Four**

**_The Life and Lies of Hermione Snape – Part III_ **

_Dear Hermione,_

_Just like I've promised you: one letter every Friday. I always keep my promises, don't I? By the time this letter reaches you, you're probably done eating dinner there with mum and dad. Tell them hello for me, won't you? And tell mum to stop worrying much about me much. If the Giant Squid hadn't eaten me on the first day, I doubt that I can't survive anything._

_Anyway, you cannot believe how amazing Hogwarts is. Mum's descriptions and your_ Hogwarts, A History _doesn't even do it justice (although you'd probably disagree). The feast, the ghosts, and the sky in the Great Hall are just one of the few incredible things that I've seen over here! Not going to lie, I do miss mum's cooking though. I don't want to spoil anything too much (though I suspect that you probably know more than I do) because I want you to experience Hogwarts on your own by the time that you're old enough to study here._

_As you have probably heard from mum and dad, I've been sorted into Slytherin. I'm sure that none of you were surprised about that. I'm still holding onto my hope that you'd be sorted in the same house as me. Anyway, you probably know that the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons (which is beyond anything you can ever dream of, Hermione! We can see under the lake!), so I'll talk about the people I've met instead._

_My roommates' names are Corbin Yaxley, Vaivan Avery, and Malcolm Mulciber. Sadly, they aren't as bright as I've hoped (not in our standards at the very least). They asked me about my blood status the first night and I told them I was a half-blood. They didn't seem to want to get to know me after that, but I assure you, the feeling is very much mutual._

_I've also met a couple of people in the train but they weren't anywhere near nice. Two gits in particular were harassing a redhead. Don't worry, I've stopped them. It turns out that the redhead that I've helped is called Lily Evans, a muggleborn who lives near us. It's such a small world, isn't it? She seems pretty nice enough and, because I didn't want the gits to come back to harass her again, I stayed with her all throughout the ride._

_Unfortunately, she was sorted into Gryffindor with the two gits who were harassing her. I found out later that their names are James Potter and Sirius Black. I hope they aren't bothering her too much or something. I've also met Lucius Malfoy who reminds me too much of our hag of a grandmother. Tell me: are all purebloods pompous gits or is it just me?_

_Regarding classes, I really like Potions even though I think that Professor Slughorn, who also happens to be the Head of the Slytherin House, is a bit of a dunderhead. He keeps fawning over my potions which is very annoying when all I want is for him to leave me in peace. But the good news is everyone (including in Slytherin) seems to see me as some sort of a Potions protégé after that, so that's nice. I also like Defense Against the Dark Arts though the professor doesn't seem as competent as I've expected._

_Anyway, this letter is getting too long and you're probably staying way past your bedtime reading this. I'll write to you next week and please, take care of yourself, alright?_

_Yours,_

_Severus_

_P.S Eat your vegetables!_

Hermione stared at the wrinkled letter she tossed on her study table; her expression unreadable. She had hoped that Severus wouldn't encounter James and Sirius (or any of the Marauders) until much, much later. In fact, she would rather that they wouldn't meet at all, to be honest, but it seemed that Severus was destined to meet them no matter what. Were their lives so intertwined with one another that it couldn't be disrupted by an interloper such as herself?

She didn't know why the Marauders chose to target Severus back in her previous life. Was it because of his physical appearance? Her hair and buckteeth had been the source of all jokes and taunts before, so she knew people could be cruel about that. She didn't know anything about a young Professor Snape, but she could only imagine the state he would be in if he grew up in Tobias' household.

However, if the Marauders antagonized Severus because of his physical appearance previously, then that would be a moot point now. Severus' hair wasn't as greasy as Professor Snape's; his stringy black hair had been cut short, like Henry, and he also washed it daily. Eileen had brought him new robes using some of the extra money they saved, so his clothes were new, presentable, and proper though not the highest quality. Meanwhile, his teeth weren't crooked as Eileen had magically fix it, although his hook-like nose was unfortunately a trait that couldn't be altered.

She didn't think that a lot of people would bother him now because of the way he looked. Was it his status as a Slytherin, then? She knew how much wizards took value in Hogwarts houses. Ron had been prejudiced when it came to houses other than Gryffindor, and she knew that most people didn't think much of Hufflepuffs unless they were from that house themselves. Had they put a target on Severus because of his house? But that didn't make any sense since he wasn't the only Slytherin in their year.

From what she heard from Harry and what she had seen and observed in her previous life, the Marauders were vicious particularly to Professor Snape. Their animosity was even present during their later years in life (until Sirius died, then Remus, then eventually, the Hogwarts professor). However, what brought that on? School rivalry? Petty drama? Pride? She huffed, slumping in her seat, her eyes lingering on another name that Severus wrote on the paper.

 _Lily Evans_. Of course— _of course—_ it would be her. Lily Evans was an intriguing factor to consider. She had been a big part of the whole Boy Who Lived saga; the mother who had selflessly sacrificed her life in order to save her son. And now, because of her, Severus had encountered two members of the budding marauders, which meant that he had shoved himself into their sights to notice (and to become a potential target, Hermione thought grimly).

It was far too coincidental for her liking. From what she remembered from the stories (told by probably everyone she met); James Potter had pursued Lily Evans years before she began having an interest in him. What if, in the old timeline, just like what she theorized months ago, Lily and Severus became friends, possibly _before_ they went to Hogwarts?

If James Potter was infatuated with Lily Evans from the very start, there was a possibility that he'd seen their closeness and considered Severus as some sort of rival for Lily's affections. Maybe that was why they made him a target and why they bullied him mercilessly. The idea had merit and the theory was sound, but she had the whole 'mudblood' encounter and Death Eater to consider, and she also had no way of confirming if this was the truth.

She sighed, exhausted by the theories in her mind that could never prosper because she had no way of knowing if it was correct or not. All she had now were speculations which was completely frustrating. It was not the first time she cursed her knowledge of what was about to come. Although proven to be advantageous from time to time (primary school, especially), it was also quite aggravating.

Shaking her head and taking her mind off of her thoughts, she pulled out a fresh paper, an ink pot, and a quill to write a letter to Severus. Hermione could've chosen to use a muggle pen but Eileen insisted that she begin practicing how to use a quill in order to prepare her to Hogwarts' rather archaic school system. Hermione had flourished, as always, accomplishing it faster than what Eileen expected.

She had no idea what to write to Severus. Should she tell him to stay away from Sirius and James, and Lily, by extension? What would she tell him if he asked why? It wouldn't make any sense if she forbid him from befriending them or anything. So, what would she say? _'Dear Severus, please stay away from Black and Potter unless you want to spend the rest of your life as a Death Eater. Thanks. Love, Hermione'?_ No, that was just ridiculous.

She huffed, the quill hovering over her parchment, magic preventing the ink from dripping excessively on the blank white space. She had to balance the delicate line of lies and truths without ruining the relationships in her life, while also saving the people she loved and whose futures were bleak. It was an unfortunately difficult task, but it was one that she had no choice but to tackle. If she, Harry, and Ron searched, found, and destroyed Horcruxes for nearly a year, she could handle this too.

' _Dear Severus,'_ she began writing. _'Congratulations! I'm so proud and happy that you were sorted into Slytherin. Goodness knows that one of us has to, and we both know that it's not going to be me…'_

* * *

There was a brown eagle owl perched proudly on top of the windowsill in the kitchen, a rolled expensive parchment was tied to one of its leg. Eileen found Hermione glaring at the poor creature early in the morning, a petulant pout curled upon her lips. The owl merely glared back, feathers unruffled; its stance awfully reminded Hermione of its owner.

"It's from _her_ , again," Hermione announced, emphasizing the 'her' with baleful indignation. She watched as her mother took the letter from the owl before it finally left. "She certainly can't take a hint, can she? It's, what? The tenth letter she sent to us? It hasn't even been a week."

Desdemona Prince was fast becoming a thorn in Hermione's side. She was accustomed to getting things her way, so Hermione refusing to succumb to her orders had taken a blow to her pride. Frankly, Desdemona was acting like a child who'd been refused dessert. Every week since she stormed out of their house, Desdemona wrote dozens of letters that raged from negotiations and compromises, to blackmails and threats just for Hermione to accept her heirship.

As Ron would've say: _not bloody likely_.

That didn't stop Desdemona from trying though.

"Just be grateful it isn't a howler," Eileen said, casting Hermione an admonishing glance.

Hermione waved a dismissive hand. "She's too refined and _pureblooded_ for a howler." She rolled her eyes.

"Well, my mother is quite… bullheaded," Eileen admitted with an embarrassed blush, although for the life of Hermione, she didn't understand what she was blushing about. "She's greedy and determined—two awful combinations. She wants the Prince fortune to stay in the direct bloodline."

"She should've thought of that before she disowned you," Hermione pointed out, then turned quiet, as she decided to change the subject. "Mum? Do you ever miss magic?"

"Why do you ask so, Hermione?" Eileen responded without missing a beat.

"It's…" Hermione paused, a contemplative air around her. "I've never seen you do magic. I don't think you've ever done any magic. I know that dad approves and encourages you to do so. I just wonder why you don't want to."

It was something that bothered Hermione because she didn't know why. She was painfully aware that even though Eileen was her mother, she didn't know her as much as she liked. She knew Eileen the Mother; she just had a hard time connecting with Eileen the Witch. Eileen had always been cautious and reluctant to reveal more of herself to them. She didn't hide the fact that she came from a life of pain, but Hermione got a sense that she was holding back how much that pain traumatized and changed her.

It was understandable really, since Hermione and Severus were still children regardless of their mature and adult-like behavior. Eileen was likely shielding them from whatever horrors she faced, especially from Severus who almost experienced those same horrors from Tobias. However, she doubted that Henry knew the extent of Eileen's abuse and neglect from her family and then from Tobias.

An uncomfortable silence ensued and Hermione wondered if she had mistakenly overstepped a line, until Eileen answered haltingly, "Magic is both a wonderful and terrible thing for me, sweetheart. It was both a curse and a blessing. You and Severus won't understand right now because Henry and I endeavored to treat you both with equal love. But you already know that I haven't been treated right by my family and that's why I left. I don't want to use magic because I'm afraid that it'll only remind me of the terrible things I went through."

Hermione flinched. She was saddened by Eileen's answer and yet, she understood completely. Her introduction to the Wizarding World had been a battle since day one, much like Eileen's, she suspected. Treated as an outsider and an outcast, an anomaly, and a fluke, she always had a difficult time adjusting to a world that either accepted her or wanted her dead—there was no in between. Even the most progressive purebloods, those considered blood traitors, didn't even know what to do with her.

The most ironic thing in her situation was that even though she was born a half-blood in this world, she still didn't belong whatsoever. She arrived her as an interloper and an intruder. She wasn't meant to be a Snape, after all. But this was her home now, and this was her family. Although she couldn't imagine a world without Harry or Ron with her, she also couldn't imagine not having Eileen, Henry, or Severus in her life.

"I understand, Mum," she said solemnly which, for some reason, made Eileen laugh not unkindly.

It amused her parents so—that Severus and Hermione rarely acted like their age. They were far more mature, Hermione especially, though they did have their moments of childishness. Eileen once told them that they had 'old souls' because they saw and understood too much. Severus grew up because of his brief experience with Tobias, forcing him to act responsible and mature, while Hermione, they thought, followed Severus' example.

Hermione had hidden a smile then. If only they knew how old her soul truly was.

"I can't imagine why you understand," Eileen said, a smile teasing the corner of her lips. "I should hope not at least. You're only nine, my love. Anyway," she shook her head, lowering her gaze to the letter in her hands, "I think that my mother wouldn't be stopping anytime soon, Hermione. Best give her an answer now."

She slid the letter on the counter towards her, tapping on the scrolled parchment twice with a forefinger, before she turned to the stove to start making breakfast. Hermione eyed the letter as though it was Voldemort's horcrux itself.

"I already gave her an answer. It's not my fault that she doesn't want to accept it," Hermione groused, but then snatched the letter and untied the pretty black ribbon before reading the contents. Her blood immediately boiled at what she read. _That—! That—!That loathsome, meddlesome, old goat!_ "Son of a bitch!"

"Hermione!" Eileen spun around, ready to berate her. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Hermione didn't listen, too engrossed with the letter to even bother. She reread it once then twice, unable to comprehend what she just read and what Desdemona was thinking. Was she truly this desperate to have her and to keep the fortune of the Prince in the family? She had no doubt that this was some kind of ploy, but she hadn't realized what lengths she would go through just to get her to accept. This was certainly the tip of the iceberg.

"It appears that Desdemona has truly lost the plot," Hermione said, breaking Eileen's tirade. She held out the letter and waited for her to take it and read it for herself.

"Oh my," Eileen breathed out in surprise, eyes blinking with disbelief at the letter. She lifted a hesitant gaze. "It appears that my mother somehow managed to convince the schoolboard to grant you an opportunity to study Hogwarts next year, before your eleventh birthday."

"It appears so." Hermione fumed silently. _That conniving witch!_ "Severus is right; she really is desperate."

What aggravated Hermione the most was the fact that it was _working!_ Merlin knew how much she valued her studies and how much tempting this offer could be to someone like her. She missed Hogwarts. She missed learning about magic and doing magic. She missed the ghosts, the Giant Squid, the sky in the Great Halls and the House Elves. She missed seeing Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick. To be given this chance to study at Hogwarts before she turned eleven (nevermind that she would be eleven later) was as tempting as the forbidden fruit was to Eve.

Hermione didn't know how Desdemona convinced them, just that she had done so successfully. She had done her research well this time around and had used what she learned against her. As far as she knew, no one had been granted this kind privilege. Otherwise, plenty of pureblood families would've exploited it. Although the letter didn't say anything like condition—Desdemona only wrote something along the lines of 'supporting your academic pursuits'—Hermione knew there was a catch somewhere.

Hermione certainly knew what Desdemona wanted in exchange for this privilege. _That conniving little bi—_

"This is certainly a rather large stake," Eileen noted, dropping the letter on the counter table. "She must've found out that you finished primary early and that I'm teaching you about magic."

Since she wasn't eligible to start Hogwarts until she turned eleven, Eileen took her education in her own hands and decided to teach her instead. Eileen didn't know any muggle subjects aside from what she knew from Severus and Hermione, so she taught her an informal introduction to magic and the Wizarding world instead. Severus used to join her, eager to learn as she was, but he didn't care much about who was who and what was what; he cared more about the Potion making aspect of the lessons.

Through Eileen, she learned more about the Wizarding world than what she could glean from a book or two. In this world, she had the added benefit of a pureblood mother willing to teach and share to her the things that usually only purebloods exclusively knew about. She told her of old customs and etiquette between the Sacred Twenty-Eight, of celebrations and holidays of the old, of proper manners and courtesy, and of secrets only shared in whispers and closed doors among family. Hermione, being herself, absorbed the information like a sponge.

Hermione learned that, what made purebloods think they were so pure, was because of their natural born talents that they inherited through blood. It's the Blood magic for the Blacks, ritual magic for the Notts, high fertility for the Weasleys and the Prewetts, parseltongue for the Gaunts (or Slytherins), Seer abilities for the Lovegoods and Trelawneys, and male heirs for the Malfoys. For the Prince family, it was Mind magic, or more specifically: Occlumency and Legilimency.

(Now she knew what made Professor Snape so good at playing the spy. He was a Prince, so that made him a natural born Occlumens and Legilimens. Knowing she was a Prince also, which made her a natural in Mind magic, was a relief. At least, there was a way for her to protect the contents stored in her head.)

She couldn't quite help but wonder why she hadn't known this back in her previous life and why no one sought to teach her. Then she remembered: _muggleborn_. She clenched her jaw; that was one mystery easily solved.

"She's not doing this for nothing," Hermione said knowingly.

Eileen stared at her. "Sometimes, I'm amazed by how your mind works. But you're right; she's not doing this for nothing, no matter what this letter says otherwise. What about this post script, though? What do you think your brother will think of this?"

Hermione glared at the letter. Desdemona had also been generous enough to place in a reservation of apprenticeship for Severus to a very well-known Potions Master after he graduated from Hogwarts. This was her main reason for even considering this. Severus had always been fascinated with Potions since the first time they read about it under the covers and away from Eileen's prying eyes. When Eileen taught them how to brew, he immediately flourished, his potions beyond anything they could've dreamed of, surpassing even Hermione's future-influenced potions.

Those were some of the instances when she was reminded of Professor Snape's innate ability and talents when it came to Potions (and spell creation, as proven in the Half-Blood Prince's book). It rankled Hermione more than she cared to admit. Although she tried to amend some of her flaws, it seemed that she was still a sore loser even in this life. A small part of her had bemoaned and pouted, her envy making her feel inadequate. But overall, she was proud and in awe of him.

Professor Snape was the professor that she sought the approval of the most, and to see his beginning, his ascension to greatness, was awe-inspiring. He was truly wasted in teaching children who considered potion making tedious and taxing. He was meant to do something _more._ It was really unfair and tragic that life had stunted him and let him become a bitter and miserable man.

Remembering the future that laid before her own brother tempted her even more. Though, she already had a solid idea on Severus' reaction when she told him about this.

"Severus would hate this," Hermione mused aloud. "He doesn't take well to charity and he also dislikes Desdemona severely. Severus believes in working hard and earning your dues. I know he wouldn't accept this. That being said, it doesn't mean that he shouldn't hear about this. I would have to speak with Severus." She looked at Eileen, realizing something. "And you? What do _you_ think?"

Eileen blinked her eyes and hummed in contemplation. "A part of me wants to accept her offer for both you and Severus. However, a large part of me wants you and Severus stay away from them. This… this is just one of my mother's schemes to lure you in and steal you away from me. However, I also know that you're smart enough to decide what's best for you." She shook her head. "You're only nine, but goodness, you act like you're thirty or something. You and Severus both."

True. Hermione smiled slightly. She wondered if their behaviors robbed Eileen of the chance to mother them and to make decisions for them. Nobody expected to make big decisions from a nine-year-old, but then again, they also hadn't met her.

If it weren't for the information in her head, she would've glowed at exceeding their expectations. It was something that her old self would've done. In her old life, Hermione had been overzealous and a tad bit overbearing with everything—for the lack of better term. It grew worse when she found out that she was a witch. It shouldn't be truly surprising that navigating in a different world, so out of her depth, made her work twice as harder than what she was used to.

Being a muggleborn made her want to be noticed. She wanted to be acknowledged as a witch with no 'muggleborn' attached to it. She wanted to stand out, to be seen, to be _more_. It was why she took thirteen classes in her third year despite it conflicted her schedule, why she wrote essays way over the required length and limit, and why she still raised her hand in Professor Snape's class despite how many times he ridiculed her.

She didn't regret it since she had learned far more than what Hogwarts taught her and her hard work eventually paid off. At the end, she became the exception, the stain that darkened the pureblood rules governing the Wizarding world. Remus called her the Brightest Witch of the Age, a moniker that made her stand out even more especially after the DA began. She was praised and applauded. She'd been compared to Professor McGonagall, Lily Evans Potter, and even Rowena Ravenclaw, all respectable witches in history. Not even Malfoy's taunts could erase her accomplishments and achievements.

But looking back at it now, she didn't like the way she'd become after. Though she told herself not to let it all get in her head, she knew that she had been annoying, abrasive, and obnoxious about it to the point of near arrogance and conceitedness. It was those flaws that made her contradict Luna's claims, overlook Ron's moments of brilliance, and dismiss Harry's theories (like Malfoy as a Death Eater, for example). Because of that, she tried to be better.

It was too late in her previous life, but she had the chance to change in this life.

In this life, she was laxer, but also more accomplished. She was flawless in her execution but, unlike her former self, she endeavored not to be so 'in-your-face' about it. It admittedly made things easier for her when she wasn't controlled by her need to be seen and noticed. Insecurity could be quite the baggage to carry, and she found that it suited her when she wasn't mindlessly dragging it around with her.

She didn't have the need to answer every question because she got nothing to prove. She learned how to be quiet, but didn't make the mistake of becoming a pushover. She was proud of her achievements, but also remained modest and humble. Whenever she corrected someone, she would ask first rather than assume that they'd want the corrections (thanks for that, Ron). She knew she was right and sought to prove it, but she also kept an open mind, listening to other people's points and arguments (with admittedly restrained impatience).

It was a good thing too since all of her classmates were older than her and, when they encountered a humble and shy child and none of the arrogance they expected, they had warmed up to her quickly. Deemed as a 'gifted child' when she was five, she had been moved up a grade at least thrice, and ended primary school when she was only eight, far younger than Severus.

She often wondered if Severus ever resented her for that and if he felt overlooked because of her. She knew it couldn't be easy having her as a sister.

 _Severus is clever, but his sister is brilliant,_ some would say. _Severus is smart, but isn't anything like his sister. Severus Snape is okay, but have you met Hermione Snape? Those Snape siblings are something else, huh, especially that Hermione girl._

She knew how difficult things could be when you were constantly being compared to your sibling, especially a younger one. She had seen it in Ron whenever he felt like he didn't live up to his parents' expectations. She had felt it whenever he lashed out on her because he felt inferior next to her and inadequate next to his older siblings.

However surprisingly enough, Severus remained the same as ever, never treating her any differently. Others would've tried to compete with her and would've resented her for it, but Severus was strangely alright with it. If he ever resented her or anything like that, he never showed it to her either. In turn, Hermione never made him feel less about himself or made him question his worth. It helped that Eileen and Henry never compared them to each other even if some other busybodies did.

The fact remained that she became the Snape sister bathing in the spotlight while her brother contented himself in the shadows. His loyalty and faith were admirable traits, and now she understood why Headmaster Dumbledore was steadfast in his belief that Severus Snape was on their side.

(But that didn't change the fact that Professor Snape had killed Albus Dumbledore in her previous life. In fact, it didn't answer the question why Professor Snape killed him in the end if he was loyal to the light side of the war. His actions and behavior completely contradicted what she observed from her own brother. But was the answer really important? It hadn't happened in this time yet, and if Hermione got her way, it would never.)

She bit her lower lip and stared at the letter.

It seemed that Desdemona won this battle, but Hermione would be damned if she was going to let her win the war.

* * *

"Severus!" Hermione called out his name in the crowd as she stood up to her toes, hands waving frantically in the air. Their eyes met and held. Her smile broadened. "Severus! Over here!"

Henry chuckled next to her while Eileen tried to shush her up, embarrassed at her rather loud calls. So, Hermione merely started waving her arm even more. She could spot the way Severus' cheeks flushed in embarrassment, but there was a shy boyish smile of pleasure on his face. Hermione beamed and started running towards him, distantly hearing Eileen's startled yelp and Henry's worried shout of her name, but ignoring it in favor of greeting her brother with a big bone-crushing hug.

"Oof!" Severus grunted as she flew in his arms, trying to maintain his balance so they wouldn't sprawl on the floor. "Hermione!"

"Severus! I missed you!" Hermione said, laughing as she gave her brother a squeeze, missing the way he wheezed, before letting him go. She proceeded to eye him critically. "You've gotten taller!"

"Really? I think you're just getting smaller," he teased with an amused smirk adorning his face.

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Sure, it does." He rolled his eyes, then he vaguely gestured to his side. "And have you forgotten your manners already, little sister? I brought friends with me."

Hermione eventually noticed two people standing beside her brother. One man and one woman, both tall and beyond beautiful. The man had long platinum blond hair that he tied in a ponytail and had eyes that resembled a glistening ice spike. The woman next to him had snow white hair and grey eyes that reminded Hermione of thunderclouds. She felt herself freeze as she realized who they were.

_Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Pre-Dark Lord. Pre-Dark Mark. Pre-Draco Malfoy._

"May I introduce to you, my little sister, Hermione Snape," Severus said a tad bit formally, speaking as though they were in the presence of the royal court. Maybe they were and Hermione just didn't know it. "Hermione, they are Lucius Malfoy, primary heir of the House of Malfoy, and Narcissa Black, his betrothed."

Lucius huffed while Narcissa gave her a beatific smile. Hermione tried to calm her racing heart, forcing herself to return Narcissa's smile. They couldn't be more than eighteen. Severus told her that Lucius was currently a fifth-year prefect, and that Narcissa was in her third year. She knew that they were going to get married once Lucius graduated and Narcissa was in her seventh year at Hogwarts. It was one of the few information that she had stumbled upon when she was searching for the half-blood prince's identity.

She knew that she was going to meet them someday. She knew from Severus' letters that Lucius had somehow taken him under his wing and they were friends, but _knowing_ something wasn't the same as experiencing it. She couldn't believe that she was in the presence of Draco Malfoy's parents, and they weren't spitting or sneering at her. It was surreal.

They looked so _young_ compared to the last time she'd seen them which was in the Battle of Hogwarts. The last time she'd seen them, they looked weary and war torn, with bags under their eyes and fear etched permanently on their faces. But at this moment, the two people before her didn't resemble an ounce to the people she fought against in the future.

_The same people who watched as she was getting tortured._

She immediately banished that thought out of her mind before it could take root and blossom into thorns and poison ivies. That was one of the few aspects of her life she chose to forget extensively. Though time had helped fade the sting of that particular memory, she endeavored not to remember it. She did the same with the knowledge of her brother killing the headmaster of Hogwarts Academy. It wasn't acknowledged, but it festered at the back of her mind like an unattended rotting wound.

"It's so nice to meet you, Hermione." Narcissa's voice was as soft as Egyptian cotton and as beautiful as a Siren's song. The light seemed to give her an ethereal appearance. She was only thirteen but she truly looked like an angel sent from above, all gentle beauty and soft curves. "I've heard so much about you that I feel like I know you already."

Hermione swallowed the lump down her throat and finally found her voice. "All good things, I hope," she quipped, hiding her uneasiness with a cheeky smile.

Narcissa's laugh was like tinkling fairy bells. "Oh, all of them are good things, don't worry. Your brother is quite fond of you. But for all of his stories, he hasn't told us how adorable you are." Just like that: Narcissa's eyes sparkled and an excited smile graced her lips. Hermione blinked her eyes. _And was that a squeal?_ " _Oh_ , but I must say that you will look more adorable with tights and ballet shoes on. I can see it now. A little blue dress that reaches your knees with lace, no frills, and capped sleeves. Oh, and look at that hair! Lucius, those _curls!_ I am simply jealous. Nevermind the large front teeth, which is quite unfortunate. Why, you're simply the most adorable thing I've ever laid my eyes on!"

Hermione's eyes widened as Narcissa—because there was no other way to put it— _gushed_ about her hair. The very hair that her future son had taunted and teased her about.

"She's not one of your dolls, Cissy," Lucius cut Narcissa off, shaking his head when she loudly huffed at him. Hermione stiffened when his eyes landed on her, and she knew that somewhere out there, Draco Malfoy was cursing her existence when Lucius' lips twitched into a smile. Small and fleeting, but a sincere one nonetheless. "I apologize for my future wife. She has a habit of treating little girls as her own personal doll to dress up and play with."

Hermione blinked her eyes, unable to believe her ears. Was that what Narcissa was doing? How… how _normal_ and _girly_ , and so unlike the woman who had sent her a glare full of disgust and disdain the one time they met in Diagon Alley. It was so unlike the woman who had raised a prejudiced and racist son and who allowed her own child to throw names like 'mudblood' to people like her.

Unbidden, she remembered meeting Lavender for the first time. Like Narcissa, Lavender had gushed over her hair and offered to style it for her. Needless to say, Hermione, who had been subjected to many taunts about her hair, thought that Lavender was making fun of her and immediately and effectively dismissed her. She wasn't even kind or polite about it either; as a result, a frosty and somewhat cold acquaintanceship built between them.

Comparing Narcissa to Lavender made her feel uneasy. This was one of the few things she struggled with in the past: humanizing the people she'd witnessed doing horrible crimes in the future. She fought against Lucius in the Department of Mysteries and he, his wife, and his (currently unborn) son watched as she was getting tortured in their home. They watched and didn't do anything to save her. Although it didn't happen yet in this time, it was still a bitter pill to swallow.

But if she could somehow accept her brother despite knowing that he killed Albus Dumbledore, could the same be said to Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black?

"Oh, don't embarrass me in front of Severus' little sister, Lucius," Narcissa huffed before casting Hermione a radiant smile. "I'm so very happy to meet you, Hermione. I hope that I will see you again. Oh, I can't wait to dress you up!"

Hermione didn't know how to respond to that.

Thankfully, her encounter with the Malfoys (or future Malfoy in Narcissa's case) didn't last long. After a few moments of Narcissa _cooing_ and telling Hermione that she reminded her of one of her sisters (Narcissa didn't mention a name but Hermione had a sinking feeling that it was Bellatrix and wasn't that an irony?), Lucius and Narcissa immediately bid themselves goodbye. Hermione and Severus watched them leave.

Suddenly, she felt him stiffen beside her. She peered at him out of the corner of her eyes and saw him glaring at something ahead of them. Following his glare, her breath hitched when she saw four boys, standing side by side, laughing and talking without a care of the world.

She instantly knew who they were.

_Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew. James Potter._

Untouched. Unmarred. Unbroken.

_Free._

Free from war, from death, and from betrayal.

She blinked back the tears in her eyes as she watched James Potter who died so young to protect the woman he loved and the son destined to die. Her eyes greedily stared at his face, trying to find her best friend from his smile, his stance, and his hair. But no matter how much she tried, no matter how many people told Harry that he looked like his father, she could not see Harry Potter in him.

She didn't know whether to be relieved or to cry about it.

"Let's go, Hermione," Severus murmured to her side, grabbing her hand as he guided her towards their parents.

Hermione shot a glance at James Potter once last time. As though sensing her gaze, he looked up, lips pulled stretch into a wide smile, and their eyes met for a split second. Then just as easily as he looked at her, he averted his eyes, dismissing her existence like it weighed nothing of significance.

 _He isn't Harry,_ she thought to herself as she looked away, dismissing him as easily as he did, _and he will never be Harry._

* * *

She was ten years old, nearly eleven, when Eileen finally told them about soulmates. Eileen had sat her and Severus down and they both watched and listened—with bated breath in Hermione's case—as the older witch told them the truth. Eileen was reluctant at first, but she eventually told them about the name on her wrist, what it meant, the consequences it would bring, and how it changed everything from there on out.

And it was the final confirmation, the nail in the coffin, for her to come into a terrible conclusion that she wasn't just out of her time, but she was also out of her _world_. As Eileen continued discussing about soulmate magic, Hermione sat immobile in her seat, unable to hear her voice or distinguish her words. She clasped her shaking hands on her lap and shut her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together to form a thin line over her face.

Some part of her somehow _knew_ that, even as she denied it for years. She knew that there was something different and off about this world she was born into. But now that she was aware of the fact that this world wasn't hers, she didn't know if she was always meant to be born here once she died or if her reincarnation was just a fluke. If she had died a normal death, would she had been reborn here as Severus' younger sister, with or without the memories of her previous life?

And soulmates. _Soulmates._ Having him or her would change things—her plans for example. The concept boggled her mind. She never thought that soulmates were real, that it wasn't just a woman's whimsical dreams, and there was a way to meet them. She almost didn't want to believe it. But there was no use living in denial—she truly had no time for it. She had lived in denial the first few years of her life, unable to let go of her past, and she didn't want to repeat the experience.

Her presence had already changed so much of this place, from Eileen leaving Tobias to Severus growing up in a loving home where he wasn't subjected to abuse and neglect. But what did that mean in the end? What did that mean for the future?

 _Harry,_ she thought, unable to banish the pang of pain that resonated in her chest, _and Ron._ Her boys. Her lovely, stubborn, dunderheaded boys. There were no guarantees that they would be born in this world, just as there were no guarantees that the war might happen. Did that mean that she had agonized over changing the future for nothing? That her memories were useless and served no purpose? Did Voldemort even exist in this world? She hoped that he didn't, but how could she know?

So many changed plans. So many factors to consider. So many new topics and subjects to research. And so little resources.

She was out of her time, out of her world, and out of her depth.

Eileen smiled though her lips were trembling. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to tell you both. You must understand that soulmate magic is as prided as blood heritage. It… it defines all of us." She glanced at her wrist and Hermione wondered what Eileen was feeling, knowing that a muggle was her soulmate and a cruel one at that. She visibly shook her head, like she could shake away the memories, before she lifted her gaze to them. "But you must know that I hid it because I didn't want it to influence you in some way. I didn't want… I didn't want any of you to undergo what I went through just because your soulmate isn't… up to standards," her voice strained as she voiced those words out.

"I understand, Mum. Besides, I already know about soulmate magic," said Severus beside her, not at all surprised. "I've heard about it from Lucius. He and Narcissa are soulmates. I confess that it confused me that you didn't inform us about a crucial part in the Wizarding World but I understand. So, you don't have to explain yourself to me." His lips tightened to a grim line. "I was there when you were with Tobias."

Eileen was both relieved and stricken. Relieved that her son understood why she hadn't told them about soulmates and stricken when she realized that her son still remembered the horrors that he'd seen that was done to her at the hands of his father. Even though Severus was merely a toddler when they were still with Tobias, that didn't mean that the memories faded away. Some memories just chose to stay, burying itself into your very essence to haunt your steps.

"Hermione? Darling?" Eileen's nervous voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find her mother wringing her wrists and fidgeting on her feet.

"I don't have a mark," Hermione blurted out without much conscious thought. "Does that mean that I don't have a soulmate?" Then she wondered about Henry. "And what about Squibs? Do they get to have a soulmate?"

"Soulmate signs come in different forms and symbols, sweetheart," Eileen answered, relaxing marginally. "It can be visible marks on the skin—like mine—physical manifestations on your appearance—like a hair changing its color—or even mental connections—like seeing them in your dreams. There are a few others, though it's rare, who know their soulmates through one of the five senses." She then sighed. "Unfortunately, Squibs don't get to have soulmate signs, and that's just one of the many reasons why they're shunned in the Wizarding World."

"Here's the thing though," Eileen took each of their hands in her own and implored them with her gaze, "you two are free to find happiness in wherever and whoever you choose. Soulmates are sacred in the Wizarding World, yes, but your happiness is paramount to _my_ world. I don't want you to feel like your choices and decisions should be influenced and dictated by a soulmate. I don't want you to think that you're prohibited to make choices and find other options because you are entitled to it. They may deserve your consideration and loyalty, but you don't owe your soulmate your devotion unless they earned it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Hermione looked at the pale hand that held hers, at how it grasped her hand firmly and squeezed tightly, then she looked at the dark brown eyes that revealed old fears and uncovered terror. Eileen wanted to give them the thing that her family hadn't: freedom to live, to choose, and to love without fearing the consequences it would bring. The freedom that Eileen had only gotten through sheer force and determination, even as all hopes were crumbling apart.

How long had she held all of this back? How long had she wished for someone to say those things to _her_? Hermione snuck a glance at Severus who turned his gaze to her for only a second.

"Understood," both Hermione and Severus murmured in agreement at the same time. It seemed that they had come to the same thoughts.

Sacred or not, Hermione had seen Tobias and Eileen, and though she only had a faint idea of what their relationship was like, she saw the ending of their tragic story and how it irrevocably changed Eileen. It wasn't a life that she wanted for herself or for her future children. Perhaps, both Hermione and Severus understood more than anything, that having a soulmate didn't guarantee your happiness and a happily-ever-after. Sometimes, they could be lessons to learn from and a mistake to prevent and avoid. Because Hermione learned from Eileen that just as easily as they could be the savior, they could also be the cruel captor.

And Hermione was determined to be free.


End file.
